f 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


THE  WONDERS   OF 
BIRD   LIFE 


PLAY-HOUSE  OF  A  GARDENER  BOVVER-BIRD 

These  birds  (AtnMyornis  subalaris)  construct  a  beautiful  domed  hut  around  a  small 
tree  or  shrub,  which  they  interlace  with  twigs.  At  the  foot  of  the  tree,  inside  the  hut, 
they  build  up  a  bank  of  moss  and  decorate  it  with  flowers.  In  this  pretty  pavilion  they 
spend  many  hours  at  play. 


THE   WONDERS 


OF 


BIRD    LIFE 

AN  INTERESTING  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  EDUCATION,  COURTSHIP, 

SPORT  &  PLAY,  MAKEBELIEVE,  FIGHTING  &  OTHER 

ASPECTS   OF   THE    LIFE    OF    BIRDS 


BY 

JOHN    LEA,    M.A. 

JOINT  AUTHOR   OF 

"THE  ROMANCE  OF  ANIMAL  ARTS  AND  CRAFTS,"  &c. 


WITH  EIGHT  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

LONDON  :  SEELEY,  SERVICE  &  CO.   LTD. 
1912 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

NURSERY  DAYS  AND   EDUCATION 

PAGE 

The  hatching  of  a  chick — How  the  egg-shell  is  cracked — The  '  egg- 
tooth'  and  its  uses — Different  ways  of  escape  from  the  shell — 
Helplessness  and  precocity  :  Parrot  and  Partridge — Instinct — How 
to  distinguish  instinctive  actions — Life  within  the  egg — Obedience 
of  the  unborn  chick — Chicken  language — Fearlessness  of  young 
birds — Playing  'possum — Protective  colouration — Early  feats  of 
skill — Learning  to  peck— Food  and  experience — Learning  to  drink 
—The  flight  instinct — Parental  discipline— Swimming  and  diving — 
Young  water-birds  which  are  launched  by  their  parents— Pro- 
tection of  nestlings — Learning  to  sing — Nest-building — Nests  and 
eggs — Early  misdeeds  :  Cuckoos  and  their  victims — Instinct  and 
education  f  *  «,  *'  .  .  .  .  17 


CHAPTER   II 

SITTING 

Incubation  period  —  Division  of  labour — Domesticated  husbands — 
Swifts — A  rebellious  hen — The  cloistered  Hornbill — Manner  of 
leaving  and  returning  to  the  nest — Protective  colouration — Scene 
in  a  heronry — Pelican  Island — Incubation  under  difficulties — Cold 
and  heat  «  .  .  »  ••  .  35 

CHAPTER  III 

BIRDS'   INCUBATORS 

Extremes  of  the  brooding  instinct — Aids  to  incubation — Sun-warmth  : 
its  advantages  and  dangers — Ostrich,  Sand-Grouse,  and  Black- 
backed  Courser — The  Mound-Builders  and  their  incubators — Maleos 
— Choice  of  ground — Hot  springs — The  buried  chick — Brush-Turkey 
— Heat  from  fermenting  vegetable  matter — Attending  to  the  incu- 
bator— Large  feet  of  Mound-birds — Megapodes — Immense  size  of 
mounds— Ocellated  Megapode— Precocity  of  Mound-bird  chicks — 
Volcanic  heat  .  .  .  .  ...  49 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  IV 

FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

PACK 

Infant-food  and  why  it  is  necessary — Finches — Change  of  diet  and 
special  preparation  of  food  —  'Pig-eon's  milk" — Insect-eaters — 
Swallows  and  Swifts— A  ball  of  flies— Reed- Warblers — Industry  of 
parents — A  working  day  of  sixteen  hours — Feeding  the  young  in 
mid-air — Methods  of  giving  food — An  interesting  experiment — 
Birds-of-Prey— Larders— Fish-eaters— Fish  soup — Perverted  instinct 
of  domesticated  birds  .  .  .  ...  67 


CHAPTER  V 

DEFENCE  OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

Change  of  character  in  breeding  season — Courage  and  endurance — 
Braving  cold,  water,  fire,  famine,  etc. — Intimidation — Strategy: 
the  wiles  of  a  Woodchuck — Attitude  of  an  angry  bird — Animals  at- 
tacked by  nesting  birds :  cats,  dogs,  pigs — Birds-of-Prey — Courage 
of  Owls — The  redoubtable  King-bird — '  Bonxies '  and  bonneting 
— An  unpleasant  habit— One  of  nature's  comedians  .  •  •  8o 

CHAPTER  VI 
MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

Deceptive  behaviour — The  'little  brown  bird'  —  Death-feigning — 
Lapwings  and  egg-gatherers— Wiles  of  the  male  bird  and  protec- 
tive colouration  of  the  eggs— Avosets  and  Stilts— Ducks  and  Drakes 
— Ostrich — Unkingly  conduct  of  a  King  Vulture — Some  artful 
dodgers — A  cat's  hunting — The  paralysing  effect  of  fear,  and  the 
advantage  which  hunters  take  of  it — Difference  between  death- 
feigning  and  the  immobility  of  protectively  coloured  birds — The 
real  'possum — The  popular  idea  of  a  '  shamming'  bird — A  true  fairy- 
tale— Natural  selection  .  •  '  .  ,  .  94 

CHAPTER  VII 

SPORT  AND  PLAY 

The  meaning  and  importance  of  play — Fighting  games— Playful  peck- 
ing of  tame  birds — Nursing  and  nest-building  play — Flying  games 
— Swimming  games  —  '  Follow  -my-  leader '  —  Hide-and-seek  of 
climbing  birds— Swinging — Birds  and  children— Toys  and  play- 
things—Mischief  and  destructiveness— Practical  jokes  .  .in 

10 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VIII 

PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAVILIONS  FACE 

The  Paradise-bird's  playing-tree— Beauty  on  a  pedestal— The  Argus 
Pheasant's  drawing-room — A  wonderful  courtship  display — Sexual 
selection — The  Polyplectron's  playground  and  courtship — The  club- 
grounds  of  Game-birds — Bower-birds  and  their  pleasure-houses — 
Satin  Bower-birds  at  the  'Zoo' — Decorating  the  bower — A  depot  for 
lost  property — Courtship-play — The  Spotted  Bower-bird's  avenue 
and  playthings — The  Regent  Bower-bird's  love  of  colour — Carpeted 
playgrounds— The  Gardener-birds  and  their  beautiful  pleasure- 
grounds— The  Golden  Bower-bird's  toy  village  and  triumphal  arch  124 

CHAPTER  IX 

COURTSHIP 

Excess  of  bachelors  amongst  birds,  and  its  results— Arts  of  peace- 
Singing  for  a  mate — The  meaning  of  song — Song  and  dance — 
Instrumental  music — The  drumming  of  Snipes — Courtship  flights 
*— The  dalliance  of  Eagles — Antics  of  Game-birds — The  indifference 
of  hens — Bustards  in  Spain — Coyness  and  provocation — Feminine 
boldness:  the  Northern  Phalarope— Good-humoured  rivalry:  the 
Flickers  .  .  .  ,  ...  143 


I  T 


THE  contents  of  this  book  have  been  taken  from  Mr.  fohn  Leas 
larger  book  entitled  "  The  Romance  of  Bird  Life]'  published  at 
five,  shillings. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

PLAYHOUSE  OF  A  GARDENER  BOWER-BIRD        .  .           Frontispiece 

OSTRICH  CHICK  LEAVING  THE  EGG    .              .  .          ,             24 

BROWN  PELICANS  ON  PELICAN  ISLAND              .  .          ..44 

DEVOTED  PARENTS:  REED-WARBLERS  AND  NEST  .                        72 

THE  BUTCHER-BIRD'S  LARDER             .              .  ...      76 

DEFENDING  THE  NEST  :  GANDER  ATTACKING  A  Sow      .  88 

LAPWING  LEAVING  ITS  NEST               .              .  ...      98 

WHITE  STORK  AND  His  PLAYMATES  .  120 


THE   WONDERS   OF 
BIRD    LIFE 


BIKD   LIFE 


CHAPTER  I 
NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

The  hatching  of  a  chick — How  the  egg-shell  is  cracked — The  *  egg-tooth ' 
and  its  uses — Different  ways  of  escape  from  the  shell — Helplessness  and 
precocity  :  Parrot  and  Partridge— Instinct — How  to  distinguish  instinc- 
tive actions— Life  within  the  egg— Obedience  of  the  unborn  chick — 
Chicken  language— Fearlessness  of  young  birds — Playing  'possum — 
Protective  colouration— Early  feats  of  skill— Learning  to  peck— Food 
and  experience— Learning  to  drink — The  flight  instinct— Parental  disci- 
pline— Swimming  and  diving — Young  water-birds  which  are  launched  by 
their  parents— Protection  of  nestlings— Learning  to  sing— Nest-building 
— Nests  and  eggs — Early  misdeeds  :  Cuckoos  and  their  victims— Instinct 
and  education. 

NOWHERE  in  the  widev  range  of  animal  life  is  there  a 
greater  wealth  and  variety  of  romance  than  amongst 
birds.  In  their  loves,  their  battles,  their  adventures,  in 
all  their  varied  activities  and  social  habits,  there  is  present  that 
curiously  pervading  charm  which  constitutes,  for  those  who 
have  not  had  the  misfortune  to  become  deaf  to  its  appeal,  the 
very  true  spirit  of  romance.  Nor  is  the  element  of  mystery, 
which  is  so  often  bound  up  with  romance,  wholly  wanting, 
for  there  is  still  much  in  the  life  of  a  bird  that  we  can- 
not explain  or  understand,  in  spite  of  the  great  progress 
which  science  has  made  towards  the  far-off  goal  of  complete 
knowledge. 

B  17 


NURSERY  DAYS   AND  EDUCATION 

Before  we  reach  the  end  of  our  story  we  shall  have  occasion 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  birds  of  many  kinds,  some  of 
them,  it  may  be,  but  little  known  even  to  naturalists ;  but  we 
will  bear  in  mind  that  interesting  birds  are  not  necessarily 
rare,  and  that  there  is  abundance  of  romance  in  the  life  of 
species  with  which  we  are  all  quite  familiar — so  familiar,  per- 
haps, that  many  people  never  take  the  trouble  really  to 
observe  them  at  all.  For  the  moment  we  need  not  go  far 
afield — no  further  than  to  the  fowl-pen. 

The  interest  of  a  bird's  life  story  begins  with  the  very 
earliest  days  while  the  chick  is  still  in  the  egg,  unborn,  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  take  that  as  our  starting- 
point  ;  indeed,  if  we  do  so,  we  shall  meet  at  once  with  some  of 
the  most  remarkable  and  beautiful  instances  of  the  way  in 
which  Nature  has  made  provision  for  carrying  on  her  work  of 
aiding  and  safeguarding  the  appearance  on  the  earth  of  a  new 
living  creature. 

What  could  be  more  commonplace  than  the  hatching  of  an 
ordinary  domestic  chick  ?  For  three  weeks  or  so  the  Hen 
broods  over  her  eggs,  and  then  one  day  she  appears  with  a 
family  of  fluffy,  cheeping  youngsters  about  her,  over  which  she 
fusses  inordinately  until  they  are  able  to  look  after  themselves. 
If  all  goes  well,  they  are,  in  due  course,  ready  for  the  table,  or 
to  have  nests  of  their  own  ;  and  there  very  often  the  interest  of 
their  owner  ends.  Let  us,  however,  watch  the  hatching  of  a 
chick  and  see  if  we  cannot  find  out  about  it  something  more 
that  is  worth  knowing.  It  is  not  possible,  of  course,  to  do 
this  in  ordinary  circumstances,  that  is  to  say,  while  the  egg  is 
covered  by  a  sitting  Hen ;  we  must  either  wait  until  several  of 
the  brood  have  escaped  from  the  shell,  when  it  is  likely  that 
the  others  are  on  the  point  of  emerging,  and  remove  one  of  the 
unhatched  eggs  to  a  warm  place,  such  as  a  basket  in  front  of 
the  fire,  where  we  can  observe  it  conveniently ;  or,  what  is  far 
better,  watch  eggs  which  are  being  hatched  in  an  artificial 
glass-covered  incubator.  In  either  case  a  great  deal  of  patience 

18 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

may  be  called  for,  but  we  are  not  likely  ever  to  learn  very  much 
about  the  ways  of  birds  without  that. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  the  eggs  are  hatching,  and  that 
we  fix  our  attention  on  one  which  has  still  an  unbroken  shell. 
If  we  have  been  fortunate  in  our  choice  we  shall  probably  see 
the  egg  moving  a  little  from  time  to  time,  and  if  we  listen 
intently  we  may  hear  a  feeble  tapping,  caused  by  the  chick 
hammering  upon  its  prison  walls  in  its  efforts  to  escape.  The 
sounds  are  not  continuous ;  there  are  frequent  pauses,  some  of 
them  quite  long,  so  we  may  suppose  that  the  little  prisoner 
finds  its  task  a  tiring  one,  and  is  obliged  to  rest  from  time  to 
time.  After  a  while,  however,  there  appears  in  the  shell  a 
crack  which  grows  gradually  larger,  until  at  length  a  piece  is 
pushed  right  out,  or  the  shell  is  broken  quite  in  halves,  and  the 
chick  is  visible.  It  presents  a  rather  pathetic,  woebegone  ap- 
pearance, for  its  downy  covering  is  bedraggled  with  moisture. 
Now  and  then  it  moves  in  a  jerky  way,  opens  its  eyes,  and 
makes  heroic  efforts  to  hold  up  its  head,  but  it  is  not  very 
successful  in  its  attempts,  for  the  eyes  keep  closing  again, 
while  the  head  slowly  sinks  to  the  floor.  The  little  bird, 
indeed,  seems  to  be  in  the  last  stage  of  exhaustion. 

Gradually,  however,  the  chick  gathers  strength,  its  down- 
feathers  become  dry,  it  practises  raising  itself  on  its  feet,  and 
it  is  not  very  long  before  it  has  learnt  to  stand  up.  Looking 
at  it  now,  it  appears  much  larger  than  it  did  just  at  first, 
and  one  is  disposed  to  marvel  that  it  could  so  recently  have 
been  shut  up  in  such  a  narrow  space.  Certainly  it  had  not  very 
much  room  in  which  to  move  about,  and  its  hammering  on  the 
hard  shell  must  have  been  performed  at  a  considerable  dis- 
advantage. It  seems  rather  wonderful  that  it  should  have 
managed  to  escape  at  all :  but  perhaps  the  little  beak  is  very 
hard  and  sharp  ?  No,  it  is  still  quite  soft;  but  if  you  look  at  it 
closely  you  will  see  at  the  very  tip  of  the  upper  half  of  the 
bill  a  pale  spot,  and  there  is  the  instrument  which  Nature  has 
provided  to  enable  the  chick  to  gain  its  freedom.  It  is  a  tiny 

19 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

conical  nodule  of  chalky  substance,  which  is  formed  as  the  time 
for  hatching  approaches,  and  is  known  as  the  '  bill-scale '  or 
'egg-tooth.'  As  the  chick  moves  its  head  about  this  instru- 
ment acts  as  a  file,  and  gradually  scrapes  and  weakens  the 
shell  where  it  rubs  against  it;  then,  when  the  time  for  more 
active  measures  arrives,  it  makes  the  feeble  blows  which  the  little 
bird  delivers  on  the  wall  of  its  narrow  prison  far  more  effective 
than  they  would  be  if  struck  by  a  soft  bill  without  any  such 
armature.  The  '  egg-tooth '  has  no  other  use :  when  once 
the  chick  has  emerged  its  work  is  done,  and  it  soon  dis- 
appears. 

We  ought,  perhaps,  to  mention  that  the  shell  is  not  broken 
open  in  just  the  same  way  by  all  the  different  kinds  of  birds, 
for  while  many,  like  the  domestic  chick,  gather  sufficient 
strength  after  chipping  a  hole  and  breathing  the  air  for  a  little 
while  to  burst  open  their  prison  walls,  others,  such  as  Ducks, 
chip  the  shell  in  a  circle  near  the  broad  end,  or,  like  the 
Humming-birds,  make  a  clean,  smooth  cut  round  four-fifths  of 
the  equator  before  hooking  their  claws  over  the  edge  and 
pushing  the  two  halves  apart. 

The  domestic  chick,  then,  is  clothed  when  born  in  a  coat  of 
down ;  its  eyes  are  open,  and  it  is  very  soon  able  to  stand  on 
its  feet:  what  else  it  can  do  we  shall  learn  presently.  The 
young  of  many  birds,  such  as  those  of  Gulls,  Ducks,  Plovers, 
Cranes,  Ostriches,  and  so  on,  are  equally  advanced,  and  some 
of  them  are  even  more  precocious. 

But  the  young  of  another  great  group  of  birds,  among  which 
are  Parrots,  Hawks,  Herons,  Doves,  Gannets,  Crows,  and  all  our 
song-birds,  are  more  or  less  helpless  when  hatched,  and  many 
(though  not  all)  of  them  are  blind  and  naked.  Being  unable 
to  leave  the  nest  or  to  look  after  themselves  in  any  way,  they 
are  entirely  dependent  on  their  parents  for  food  and  even,  in 
the  early  days,  for  warmth. 

When  we  come  to  inquire  into  the  matter  more  closely,  we 
find  that  the  most  highly  developed  and  intelligent  birds  are 

20 


NURSERY  DAYS   AND  EDUCATION 

the  most  helpless  at  birth.  A  baby  Parrot,  for  example,  is 
unable  to  open  its  eyes  for  a  week  or  more  after  escaping  from 
the  egg,  and  cannot  leave  the  nest  for  at  least  thirty  days — in 
the  case  of  some  of  the  larger  Parrots  it  may  be  seven  weeks. 
Even  when  it  has  learnt  to  fly  it  is  still  lovingly  tended  by 
its  parents,  and  for  some  time  longer  is  fed  only  on  seeds  which 
they  have  softened  for  it  in  their  crops.  What  a  contrast 
is  this  to  the  precocity  of  a  young  Sandpiper,  which  is  able 
to  run  about  almost  as  soon  as  it  is  born,  and  after  an  hour  or 
two  can  cover  the  ground  at  an  astonishing  pace ;  or  of  a  Part- 
ridge chick,  which  can  jump  over  an  obstacle  four  times  its  own 
height  when  only  two  or  three  days  old ! 

The  first  thing  which  chicks  endeavour  to  do  is  to  discover  a 
snug  place  where  they  can  nestle  close  for  warmth.  In  nature 
the  little  birds  find  this  under  their  mother's  wing,  and  in 
the  incubator  they  huddle  together;  but  in  all  circumstances 
they  instinctively  seek  warmth,  and  they  soon  learn  by  experi- 
ence where  it  is  to  be  found,  for  hand-reared  chickens  will  run 
to  the  hand  of  the  person  who  tends  them,  and  cosily  ensconce 
themselves  there,  settling  down  in  contentment  and  poking  out 
their  little  heads  between  the  fingers. 

This  brings  us  to  one  of  the  most  interesting  questions  in 
bird-life :  How  far  is  a  young  bird  guided  by  instinct,  and  to 
what  extent  are  its  actions  due  to  experience  and  education  ? 
We  cannot  discuss  it  very  fully  here,  for  it  is  a  difficult  and 
complicated  question,  and  one  concerning  which  we  have  still 
a  great  deal  to  learn,  although  whole  volumes  have  been  written 
about  it.  I  hope  that  some  day  you  will  read  some  of  these 
books,  especially  those  about  Animal  Behaviour  and  Habit  and 
Instinct,  by  Professor  Lloyd  Morgan,  which  are  more  fascinating 
than  any  story-book.  For  the  present  we  must  be  content  with 
quite  a  short  account  of  the  matter. 

We  may  say  at  once  that  birds  are  guided  in  their  actions  by 
both  instinct  and  intelligence,  but  that  with  them  instinct  is 
the  more  highly  developed  of  the  two,  while  in  man  the  exact 

21 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND   EDUCATION 

opposite  is  the  case.  A  simple  and  fairly  safe  way  of  deciding 
whether  what  an  animal  does  is  the  result  of  instinct  or  of 
intelligence  is  to  inquire  whether,  in  the  same  circumstances,  it 
is  done  in  the  same  or  nearly  the  same  way  by  all  the  indi- 
viduals of  the  same  species,  age,  and  sex,  without  any  previous 
experience  to  guide  them.  If  so,  the  action  is  almost  cer- 
tainly the  result  of  instinct,  because  there  is  a  want  of  variety 
about  actions  which  are  truly  instinctive  which  is  very  different 
from  what  we  find  in  the  case  of  rational  actions.  If  you  have 
ever  kept  silkworms  you  know  that  when  the  caterpillar  has 
eaten  a  certain  quantity  of  lettuce  or  mulberry  leaves,  it  crawls 
into  a  corner  and  begins  to  spin  a  cocoon.  There  seems  to  be 
no  particular  reason  why  it  should  want  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind ;  its  surroundings  are  just  the  same  as  ever ;  it  has  the 
run  of  the  same  cardboard  box,  in  the  same  exhilarating  air 
of  a  school  locker,  with  the  same  liberal  supply  of  rather  limp 
lettuce  leaves;  yet  it  appears  suddenly  to  have  tired  of  its 
sybaritic  existence,  and  to  be  moved  by  some  impulse  from 
within  to  start  spinning.  That  act  is  truly  instinctive.  There 
are  other  instinctive  acts,  however,  which  are  not  performed 
until  some  change  takes  place  in  the  conditions  to  which  the 
animal  is  exposed.  Let  us  this  time  take  the  case  of  a  bird  by 
way  of  example.  If  you  place  a  young  Duckling,  not  very  long 
out  of  the  shell,  in  a  pan  of  water,  you  can  see  it  begin  to 
paddle  with  its  little  legs  and  swim  about  on  the  top :  that  is 
an  instinctive  act  brought  about  by  exposing  the  bird  to  new 
conditions,  or  following,  as  we  say,  an  external  stimulus. 

Most  instinctive  acts  are  either  vitally  important  for  the 
welfare  of  the  race,  like  the  silkworm's  cocoon-spinning,  which 
provides  it  with  a  cosy  garment  to  protect  it  while  it  is  in  the 
helpless  chrysalis  condition ;  or,  like  the  Duckling's  swimming, 
they  follow  some  external  stimulus  of  frequent  occurrence. 

Chickens  may  often  be  heard  cheeping  while  they  are  still 
in  the  shell,  in  some  cases  quite  a  long  while  before  hatching. 
Ducklings  begin  their  musical  career  about  a  day  before  they 

22 


NURSERY  DAYS   AND  EDUCATION 

make  their  appearance  in  the  world,  and  ypung  Moorhens  as 
much  as  two  days.  The  sound  is  sometimes  quite  spontaneous, 
but  a  silent  eggling  can  often  be  induced  to  chirp  in  answer  to 
a  whistle.  Now  it  has  been  noticed  in  more  than  one  instance 
that  if  the  mother  utters  a  note  of  warning  while  the  little 
prisoner  is  hammering  away  at  the  shell  and  singing  (or  is  it 
complaining  ?)  over  its  work,  the  sounds  stop  instantly,  and  the 
chick  keeps  quite  still  for  a  long  time  unless  the  old  bird  utters 
a  different  call  which  evidently  means  that  the  danger  is  past. 
That  teaches  us  that  the  simple  language  of  call-notes  is  cer- 
tainly instinctive,  for  the  chick  within  the  egg  cannot  possibly 
have  learnt  their  meaning  by  experience.  Domestic  chicks 
have  at  least  six  different  call-notes,  all  expressing  different 
meanings :  a  gentle  piping  of  contentment,  a  low  double  note 
of  enjoyment  heard  when  the  little  bird  is  caressed,  a  cheep  of 
discontent  when  it  wants  food  or  company,  a  squeak  of  protest 
when  it  is  handled  against  its  inclination,  a  shrill  cry  of  distress 
when  it  is  taken  away  from  its  companions,  and,  lastly,  the 
peculiar  danger  cry.  The  danger  cry  seems  to  be  a  universal 
language,  for  it  is  understood  by  young  birds  of  other  species. 
It  is  very  important  indeed  that  young  birds  should  under- 
stand the  parents1  danger  signals,  because  they  seem  to  have 
no  instinctive  fear  of  any  animal  which  approaches  them 
quietly.  If  you  are  very  gentle  in  your  movements,  you  may 
feed  nestlings  without  their  showing  signs  of  alarm  unless  their 
parents  are  present  to  utter  a  note  of  warning ;  and  most  people 
who  have  a  cat  and  a  garden  are  aware  how  frequently  pussy  is 
allowed  by  young  birds  to  approach  dangerously  near,  in  her 
quiet,  stealthy  way,  with  fatal  results.  As  for  dogs,  Professor 
Lloyd  Morgan  gives  a  most  amusing  instance  of  the  natural 
absence  of  fear  of  them  amongst  young  birds,  in  the  case  of  his 
fox-terrier,  which  had  been  trained  to  be  on  his  best  behaviour 
and  always  to  remain  perfectly  calm  in  the  presence  of  chicks. 
As  a  result  of  his  self-restraint  the  dog  was  treated  with  the 
utmost  familiarity  by  all  sorts  of  young  birds :  a  Wild  Duck 

23 


NURSERY  DAYS   AND  EDUCATION 

nibbled  his  lips  ;  Plovers,  Pheasants,  and  Partridges  pecked  his 
nose ;  and  an  ordinary  chicken  two  and  a  half  days  old  crept  in 
under  his  body,  and  finding  it  nice  and  warm,  cuddled  down 
there !  Now,  if  the  parents  of  any  of  these  little  birds  had 
been  present  they  would  at  once  have  called  their  chicks  away 
from  such  a  dangerous  acquaintance  as  a  dog,  and  having  been 
warned  the  little  ones  would  afterwards  have  treated  those 
animals  with  respect.  That  is  an  instance  of  the  manner  in 
which  education  often  takes  the  place  of  instinct. 

The  promptness  with  which  young  birds  obey  their  parents1 
warning  cry  in  the  presence  of  danger  is  very  remarkable.  If 
an  old  Pheasant  be  surprised  while  jauntily  leading  a  string  of 
fluffy  chicks  from  a  hedgerow  into  the  open,  it  will  itself,  after 
uttering  notes  of  warning,  immediately  disappear  into  the 
nearest  cover.  Not  so  the  little  ones ;  they  instantly  stand  as 
motionless  as  if  they  were  turned  to  stone,  each  one  in  the 
exact  position  in  which  it  happened  to  be  at  the  moment  when 
the  signal  was  given,  and  though  you  pass  within  a  yard  of 
them  they  will  probably  make  not  the  slightest  movement  nor 
in  any  other  way  betray  their  presence.  As  soon  as  the  danger 
has  passed  the  old  bird  will  rejoin  her  family  and  take  charge 
of  them  again. 

The  instinct  to  remain  motionless  in  order  to  avoid  being  seen 
is  a  very  common  one  amongst  chicks  which  are  hatched  on  the 
ground  and  begin  to  run  about  almost  immediately.  Such 
chicks  are  clothed  in  down  which  usually  matches  the  colour  of 
their  surroundings,  and  so  may  easily  escape  notice.  This  is 
called  'protective  colouration.1  Often  there  are  stripes,  patches, 
bands,  or  collars  of  a  lighter  or  darker  colour  than  the  rest  of 
the  down,  which  aid  the  deception  by  making  the  owner  look 
like  two  or  more  separate  objects,  such  as  stones  or  little  lumps 
of  earth,  lying  on  the  ground.  Unlike  the  Pheasant  chicks 
mentioned  above,  most  of  these  birds  drop  flat  on  the  earth  and 
crouch  there  with  their  necks  pressed  close  down.  In  that  posi- 
tion they  are  practically  unrecognisable  unless  you  catch  their 

24 


Stereo  Copyright,   Under-wood  &  U.  Londo. 

BABY  OSTRICH  LEAVING  THE  EGG 

The  baby  ostrich  is  one  of  the  most  precocious  of  chicks,  and  can  run  about  as  soon  as  it 
es  rapes  from  the  egg,  sometimes  literally  carrying  a  portion  of  the  shell  on  its  back.  When 
it  is  born  its  feathers  look  very  much  like  the  spines  of  a  hedgehog. 


NURSERY  DAYS   AND  EDUCATION 

eye,  arid  when  they  stand  up  again  they  seem  to  have  appeared 
suddenly  from  nowhere. 

Young  Game-birds  begin  to  practise  standing  on  their  feet 
very  soon  after  they  are  hatched,  and  in  a  few  hours  can  walk 
quite  well.  That  is  so  even  when  they  are  hatched  in  an 
incubator,  though  in  these  circumstances  they  take  about  twice 
as  long  to  learn  as  when  they  have  a  mother  to  look  after  them. 
Ducklings  and  Moorhens  are  more  backward,  and  if  they  try 
to  stand  on  one  foot  and  scratch  themselves  with  the  other 
during  the  first  day  of  their  life  they  topple  over,  whereas  an 
ordinary  chicken  can  perform  this  feat  of  skill  quite  creditably. 

Few  young  birds  are  more  precocious  than  Ostrich  chicks. 
These  birds  make  their  appearance  from  the  eggs  covered  with 
a  bristle-like  growth  which  has  very  much  the  same  appearance  - 
as  the  quills  of  a  hedgehog,  as  you  may  see  in  the  illustration 
opposite.  They  can  not  only  run  easily,  but  are  quite  capable 
of  feeding  themselves  from  the  first,  though  it  is  said  that  they 
will  not  begin  to  pick  up  food  unless  they  are  taught  to  do  so 
either  by  the  old  bird  or  by  the  person  who  has  charge  of  them 
suggestively  tapping  on  the  ground  in  imitation  of  a  bird 
pecking.  It  is  certain  that  chicks  of  various  kinds  which  have 
been  hatched  artificially  can  be  induced  in  this  way  to  begin 
feeding  themselves,  and  the  natives  of  Assam,  who  are  in  the 
habit  of  rearing  newly  hatched  Pheasants  which  they  find  in 
the  jungle,  teach  them  to  take  their  rice  by  tapping  among 
it.  It  is  said  that  without  this  help  many  would  die. 

But  I  think  it  is  very  likely  that  they  would  soon  learn  to  help 
themselves,  even  if  they  were  left  to  their  own  devices.  At  all 
events  no  such  instruction  was  needed  by  a  young  chicken  three 
days  old,  which  until  then  had  been  kept  carefully  blindfolded. 
When  the  bandage  was  removed  this  little  bird  first  of  all  sat 
and  chirped  for  about  five  minutes,  while  it  took  a  general  view 
of  the  strange  world  in  which  it  suddenly  found  itself.  Very 
soon  its  attention  was  attracted  by  a  fly  some  distance  away ;  it 
then  began  pecking  its  own  toes,  and  learnt  to  aim  well  so  quickly 

25 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

that  a  few  moments  later,  on  making  a  dart  at  the  fly,  which 
had  crawled  within  reach,  it  seized  and  swallowed  it  at  the 
first  attempt.  It  next  tackled  and  disabled  a  hive  bee ;  but  at 
the  end  of  twenty  minutes  it  had  still  not  moved  a  step.  On 
being  placed  within  sight  of  a  Hen  and  her  brood,  however, 
the  little  bird  showed  that  it  could  use  its  feet  as  cleverly  as  its 
beak,  for  after  chirping  for  a  minute  or  so  it  made  for  the 
family  party  as  straight  as  possible  over  the  rough  ground, 
leaping  over  small  stones  and  running  round  larger  obstacles 
without  a  single  blunder. 

Young  birds  are  always  more  quickly  attracted  by  moving 
food,  and  that  is  why  a  Hen  picks  up  and  drops  in  front  of  her 
chicks  the  grains  of  food  which  she  wishes  them  to  eat,  even 
when  they  have  learnt  how  to  peck.  Nestlings  whose  food  is 
placed  in  their  mouths  by  their  parents  cannot  be  taught  to 
pick  it  up  from  the  ground  like  chicks  until  they  are  much 
older ;  as  a  rule,  all  that  they  can  do  is  to  open  their  mouths 
very  wide  and  wait  for  it  to  be  given  to  them.  Young  Moor- 
hens, however,  which  are  fed  from  their  mother's  beak  at  first, 
will  peck  upwards  at  anything  that  is  offered  to  them,  but  not 
downwards. 

When  a  young  bird  has  learnt  how  to  take  its  food,  it  has  to 
learn  by  experience  what  is  nice  and  what  is  nasty,  what  is 
good  for  it  and  what  is  not.  Here  the  mother's  guidance  is  of 
great  assistance,  for  the  chick  seems  to  have  no  instinctive 
knowledge  of  these  things  ;  it  will  peck  at  anything  that  is  not 
too  large,  whether  it  be  its  own  toes  or  a  small  stone,  its  com- 
panions'* eyes  or  a  maggot.  Like  a  puppy  which  will  attempt 
to  swallow  almost  any  object  which  is  not  disagreeable  to  the 
taste,  even  a  piece  of  string,  until  it  learns  better,  the  young 
chick  will  try  everything,  test  it  in  its  bill,  and  store  up  its 
impressions  for  future  use.  In  the  case  of  two  things  which 
both  have  the  same  appearance,  but  one  of  which  is  pleasant  to 
the  palate  and  the  other  distasteful,  such  as  yolk  of  egg  and 
orange  peel,  the  chick's  behaviour  depends  on  which  of  the  two 

26 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

is  picked  up  first.  If  it  be  the  nasty  one,  and  it  happens  to 
have  a  very  unpleasant  flavour,  probably  nothing  will  induce 
the  little  fellow  to  taste  the  other  which  resembles  it  in 
appearance ;  but  if  he  has  the  nice  morsel  first,  he  will  after- 
wards probably  try  the  nasty  kind  more  than  once  before  he 
gives  it  up  in  disgust ;  he  is  then,  however,  suspicious  of  the 
nice  food  too,  and  refuses  it  for  some  time,  though  he  may 
eventually  peck  at  it  hesitatingly  and  give  it  another  trial. 

It  is  just  the  same  in  the  case  of  insect  food ;  unless  the 
mother  is  present  to  give  warning,  a  chick  has  to  learn  by 
personal  and  perhaps  painful  experience  what  kinds  may  safely 
be  eaten  and  what  kinds  have  stings  or  are  otherwise  undesir- 
able. But  though  young  birds  apparently  have  no  instinctive 
knowledge  of  what  is  good  to  eat  and  what  will  lead  to  uncom- 
fortable sensations,  they  are  often  preserved  from  painful  con- 
sequences arising  out  of  ignorance  by  a  wholesome  fear  of 
anything  big,  especially  if  it  buzzes.  A  bluebottle  is  as  sus- 
picious an  object  as  a  bee  to  a  very  young  chick,  who  is  often 
deceived  by  his  noisy,  blustering  conduct  into  imagining  that 
he  is  better  left  alone ;  but  the  deception  does  not  last  very 
long,  and  like  other  blustering  fellows  the  fly  is  soon  found 
out.  A  young  Plover  which  will  peck  at  a  small  worm  is 
afraid  of  a  big  one.  Old  birds  also  are  suspicious  of  anything 
of  unusual  size.  If  you  have  been  in  the  habit  of  putting 
breadcrumbs  on  your  window-sill  for  the  Sparrows,  try  the 
effect  some  day  of  placing  a  large  slice  of  bread  there  instead ; 
it  is  quite  likely  that  you  will  find  the  birds  are  shy  and 
suspicious  at  first,  and  refuse  to  come  near  it  until  they  have 
grown  accustomed  to  such  an  unusual  object  and  have  made  up 
their  minds  that  it  is  not  dangerous. 

But  although  young  birds  are  naturally  cautious,  they  are  of 
course  further  protected  from  the  danger  of  taking  improper 
food  by  their  parents,  who  give  them  only  what  is  good  for 
them  and  often  induce  them  to  eat  by  making  pretence  of  doing 
so  themselves,  just  as  a  mother  often  persuades  her  child  to  eat 

27 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

his  dinner  by  pretending  to  take  a  spoonful  to  show  how  nice 

it  is. 

. 

Unless  young  birds  are  taught  to  drink  by  their  mother,  they 
generally  seem  to  learn  quite  by  accident — that  is  to  say,  how- 
ever thirsty  they  may  be  they  do  not  recognise  water  by  sight, 
but  only  find  out  by  experience  that  that  is  what  they  want. 
The  discovery  may  be  made  in  various  ways — by  pecking  at  a 
dewdrop,  or  at  some  speck  or  grain  in  the  water,  or  at  the  edge 
of  the  water  where  it  is  in  tremulous  movement,  or  at  a  bubble ; 
the  beak  then  becomes  wet,  and  that  seems  to  be  enough  to 
awaken  the  drinking  instinct,  for  the  little  bird  at  once 
quenches  its  thirst  after  the  manner  of  its  kind.  One  chick 
will  imitate  another;  but  if  there  is  neither  an  old  bird  to 
teach  them  nor  a  more  forward  youngster  to  imitate,  they 
have  to  find  out  for  themselves  what  drinking  is,  and  they  find 
out  accidentally. 

Young  Ducklings  appear  to  be  no  wiser.  If  they  are  not  in 
charge  of  their  mother,  they  will  walk  about  for  some  time  in 
shallow  water  without  taking  any  notice  of  it  until  one  of  them 
finds  out  suddenly  that  it  is  good  to  drink.  It  is  very  interest- 
ing to  learn  that  even  the  dogs  which  were  born  during  the 
Discovery  Expedition  in  the  far  south,  and  had  never  seen 
water  except  in  the  frozen  state,  did  not  know  in  the  least  what 
to  do  with  it  when  it  was  first  offered  to  them.  They  had 
always  quenched  their  thirst  by  eating  snow,  and  they  grew 
very  thirsty  indeed  before  eventually  they  were  taught  to 
drink  by  having  their  noses  forcibly  thrust  into  the  water. 

Though  young  birds,  newly  fledged,  cannot  fly  either  as 
quickly  or  as  confidently  as  their  parents,  and  skill  only  comes 
with  practice,  they  begin  to  use  their  wings  instinctively  as 
soon  as  the  feathers  are  large  enough  to  support  them  in  the 
air ;  indeed,  even  before  they  are  fledged  they  stretch  out  their 
little  featherless  wings  if  they  feel  themselves  falling.  Any 
one  who  cares  to  make  a  simple  experiment  with  an  ordinary 
chicken  may  see  that  this  is  so.  The  best  way  to  do  it  is  to 

28 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

take  a  chicken  not  more  than  a  day  or  two  old  and  place  it  in 
a  basket ;  then  raise  the  basket  as  high  as  possible  and  suddenly 
lower  it,  and  you  will  see  the  little  bird  at  once  open  its  wings, 
though  they  are  not  yet  of  the  slightest  use  for  preventing  it 
from  falling.  A  few  days  later  the  chicken  not  only  spreads  its 
wings,  but  flaps  them  as  if  in  flight ;  and  if  frightened  while  on 
the  ground,  it  flaps  them  as  it  runs  in  trying  to  escape. 

The  early  flights  of  young  birds  seldom  carry  them  very  far, 
but  some  kinds  are  more  successful  than  others  in  their 
attempts.  Young  Swallows  are  perhaps  as  clever  as  any ;  they 
launch  themselves  boldly  from  the  nest,  circling  round  and 
alighting  again  without  a  blunder.  Others  go  through  an 
elaborate  course  of  training  before  they  venture  to  attempt 
actual  flight.  Young  Storks,  for  example,  begin  by  moving 
round  the  edge  of  the  nest  flapping  their  wings ;  then  they 
take  a  little  jump  and  learn  to  support  themselves  for  a  moment 
in  the  air,  rising  higher  at  each  attempt,  but  taking  care 
always  to  keep  over  the  nest  until  they  are  able  to  remain  in 
the  air  for  half  a  minute  or  more.  Having  at  length  gained 
confidence  by  this  kind  of  practice,  they  glide  out  boldly  from 
the  margin  and  indulge  in  short  flights  around  their  home, 
and  eventually  they  get  sufficient  courage  to  take  refuge  on  a 
neighbouring  roof. 

Occasionally  fledglings  are  too  timid  to  attempt  to  fly  until 
their  parents  urge  them  to  make  an  effort.  Usually  a  little 
gentle  encouragement  is  all  that  is  required,  with  the  offer  of 
something  nice  to  eat  as  an  inducement.  I  have  often  watched 
Sparrows  fluttering  before  their  young  ones  with  a  tempting 
morsel  held  in  the  beak,  uttering  persuasive  calls ;  and  Hawks 
frequently  place  the  game  which  they  bring  home  to  their 
young  just  out  of  their  reach  when  they  are  old  enough  to  fly, 
and  so  tantalise  them  into  taking  their  first  lesson. 

Persuasion,  however,  is  not  always  effective  in  overcoming  the 
young  birds"  timidity,  and  in  that  case  their  parents  have  to 
resort  to  sterner  methods.  Many  a  fledgling  is  compelled 

29 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

to  take  its  first  flight  by  being  turned  out  of  the  nest,  neck  and 
crop.  House-Martins  are  said  sometimes  to  drag  out  their 
laggard  children  with  their  beak  ;  and  such  birds  as  Falcons  and 
Eagles  vigorously  insist  on  their  family  leaving  home  as  soon 
as  they  are  old  enough  to  look  after  themselves. 

Water-birds,  also,  exercise  a  wholesome  discipline  over  their 
young,  in  compelling  them  to  practise  swimming  and  diving. 
The  young  birds,  however,  are  usually  very  precocious,  and  they 
never  have  to  learn  how  to  swim.  Many  of  them  are  extra- 
ordinarily skilful  in  the  art  almost  from  the  moment  when  they 
leave  the  egg.  Young  Moorhens  swim  before  they  can  walk, 
and  though  their  first  strokes  are  rather  sprawly,  they  soon  get 
the  correct  Moorhen  action.  In  South  America  there  is  found 
a  bird  called  the  Jacana  (Parra  jacana\  whose  habits  are  very 
similar  to  those  of  our  Moorhen,  but  whose  swimming  powers 
at  birth  are  even  more  remarkable,  as  Mr.  Hudson  accidentally 
discovered.  On  a  certain  occasion,  while  examining  a  Jacana's 
egg  which  he  had  just  removed  from  the  nest,  he  found  that 
the  shell  was  already  chipped  and  the  chick  about  to  make  its 
escape.  The  old  birds  were  greatly  excited,  and  poured  out 
their  loud  cries  with  a  sound  very  much  like  a  policeman's 
rattle ;  perhaps  their  calling  stirred  up  the  chick  to  make  a 
great  effort,  for  the  shell  suddenly  parted  and  the  young  bird 
leaped  into  the  water.  Although  that  was  its  first  moment  of 
life  outside  the  egg,  it  immediately  behaved  like  a  practised 
swimmer,  stretching  out  its  neck  and  paddling  quickly  to  a 
neighbouring  mound,  where  it  hid  itself  in  the  grass,  lying 
perfectly  still  like  a  young  Plover. 

A  curious  fact  of  which  few  people  are  aware  is  that  ordinary 
domestic  chickens  a  day  old  can  swim  quite  well  until  their 
down  becomes  sodden,  but  as  they  grow  up  they  lose  this 
instinctive  skill,  and  an  adult  Hen  floats  about  and  struggles 
aimlessly  if  she  finds  herself  in  deep  water.  It  is  a  remarkable 
circumstance,  too,  that  if  young  water-birds,  such  as  Ducklings, 
are  kept  away  from  the  water  beyond  the  usual  time  for  begin- 

30 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

ning  to  swim  they  rather  shrink  from  it  at  first ;  the  moment 
they  get  a  ducking,  however,  the  hereditary  instinct  is  aroused 
and  they  know  exactly  how  to  behave — at  all  events  when  the 
first  feeling  of  surprise  has  passed  away.  Those  that  are 
hatched  in  nests  surrounded  by,  or  close  beside,  the  water 
usually  take  to  an  aquatic  life  almost  immediately,  while  others 
are  led  down  to  the  water  by  their  parents  as  soon  as  they  are 
old  enough  to  undertake  the  journey.  It  is  only  the  latter 
that  require  persuasion  or  compulsion  before  they  will  make  the 
plunge.  Young  Penguins  are  not  conducted  to  the  sea  until 
they  have  doffed  their  baby  plumage,  but  when  that  time  comes 
they  are  pushed  rudely  in  by  the  old  birds  in  spite  of  their 
protests.  Eider-Ducks  are  introduced  to  their  new  element  in  a 
gentler  and  more  scientific  fashion,  the  mother  taking  them  on 
her  back  and  swimming  a  few  yards  with  them,  whereupon  she 
dives  and  so  fairly  launches  them,  to  sink  or  swim  by  their  own 
efforts.  Dabchicks  take  their  little  ones  under  their  wings  and 
hold  them  there  while  they  dive.  The  chicks  are  excellent 
swimmers,  but  are  disposed  to  board  their  parent  on  every 
opportunity ;  if  they  become  too  troublesome  they  are  chastised 
with  a  sharp  peck. 

A  Dabchick's  nest  is  a  sodden  mass  of  weeds,  so  the  very 
young  chicks  are  brooded  and  kept  warm  on  their  mother's 
back,  under  the  wing,  until  they  are  old  enough  to  sleep  on  the 
water  like  their  parents.  This  is  of  course  the  exact  opposite 
of  the  ordinary  way,  the  vast  majority  of  nestlings  being  kept 
warm  and  dry  in  the  nest  by  the  old  bird  brooding  over  them. 
Nearly  all  very  young  birds,  especially  those  that  are  born 
naked,  have  to  be  protected  from  rain  lest  they  should  die  of 
cold.  When  a  heavy  shower  comes  on  while  the  mother  is 
away  collecting  food,  she  hurries  home  and  sits  upon  the  nest 
with  half-spread  wings,  thus  forming  a  shelter  from  which  the 
raindrops  trickle  away. 

Young  chickens  begin  to  pay  attention  to  their  toilet  almost 
as  soon  as  they  can  stand,  and  I  have  many  times  watched 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

them  in  an  incubator  a  few  hours  after  being  hatched  arranging 
and  combing  the  down  on  their  breast  and  shoulders.  Bathing, 
too,  whether  in  water  or  dust,  is  instinctive. 

It  seems  probable  that  young  song-birds  remember  something 
of  their  parents'  song  from  hearing  it  during  their  early  days 
in  the  nest.  We  know  that  song  is  not  altogether  instinctive, 
as  call-notes  are,  but  is  to  some  extent  learnt  by  imitation, 
because  a  young  bird  which  is  hatched  in  captivity  by  birds  of 
another  species  learns  the  song  of  its  foster-parents ;  thus  a 
Skylark  hatched  by  Linnets  learns  the  Linnet  song.  But  if 
the  little  bird  spends  the  first  few  days  of  its  life  in  the  nest 
of  its  real  parents  it  never  quite  forgets  the  notes  of  its  own 
kind. 

There  is  reason  to  believe,  too,  that  young  birds  keep  a  dim 
remembrance  of  the  architecture  of  the  nest  in  which  they 
were  hatched,  and  that  this  early  memory  helps  them,  when 
instinct  leads  them  later  on  to  set  up  house  on  their  own 
account,  to  build  nests  like  those  of  the  rest  of  their  kind. 
But  some  nests  are  very  complicated,  and  it  is  impossible  to 
tell  how  they  are  constructed  merely  by  looking  at  the  outside, 
so  there  is  little  doubt  that  imitation  of  other  birds  plays 
its  part  here  also,  and  both  early  memories  and  imitation  are 
probably  assisted  by  an  instinctive  tendency  to  build  in  a 
certain  fashion.  Young  Moorhens  are  remarkable,  as  we  shall 
see  later,  for  practising  nest  building  while  they  are  still 
chicks. 

Nests  are  of  almost  infinite  variety  and  of  all  degrees  of 
elaborateness  or  simplicity ;  indeed,  the  only  character  which 
they  invariably  possess  is  more  or  less  roundness  in  shape.  As 
many  different  kinds  were  described  in  The  Romance  of  Animal 
Arts  and  Crafts,  and  there  are  so  many  other  interesting  things 
to  be  told  about  birds  and  their  ways,  we  will  not  say  more 
here  on  a  subject  which  might  easily  fill  the  whole  volume. 
Many  birds  build  no  nest  at  all,  but  lay  their  eggs  in  holes 
or  on  the  bare  ground.  Eggs  which  are  laid  in  holes  are 

32 


NURSERY  DAYS  AND  EDUCATION 

usually  white,  or  have  very  few  markings,  because  being  hidden 
from  sight  it  does  not  matter  how  conspicuous  they  are,  while 
eggs  laid  on  the  ground  without  any  concealment  are  covered 
with  spots  or  patches  or  stripes  which  render  them  very  difficult 
to  see  from  a  little  distance;  the  latter,  in  short,  are  pro- 
tectively coloured,  like  the  precocious  chicks  which  we  men- 
tioned earlier  in  this  chapter. 

The  birds  which  are  most  extraordinary  in  their  nesting 
habits  are  undoubtedly  the  Cuckoo  and  a  few  others  of  similar 
proclivities.  The  Cuckoo,  as  is  well  known,  places  each  of  its 
eggs  in  the  nest  of  some  bird  of  another  species — the  Pied 
Wagtail,  for  example,  or  the  Titlark  or  Hedge-Sparrow — and 
leaves  it  to  the  care  of  the  rightful  owner  of  the  nest.  The 
egg  is  first  deposited  on  the  ground,  from  which  the  Cuckoo 
afterwards  takes  it  up  in  her  bill  and,  seizing  an  opportunity 
when  the  Wagtail  or  other  bird  is  not  at  home,  cautiously 
places  it  amongst  the  eggs  already  contained  in  the  nest.  In 
course  of  time  the  young  Cuckoo  is  hatched,  and  then  a  dread- 
ful tragedy  is  enacted,  for  this  bird  enters  upon  a  career  of 
misdoing  in  its  earliest  infancy.  It  is  an  ugly  youngster,  with- 
out a  vestige  of  a  feather,  its  eyes  are  not  yet  opened,  and  its 
thin  neck  is  apparently  too  weak  to  support  its  unprepossessing 
head ;  but  in  spite  of  its  blind  and  naked  condition  it  is  able  by  a 
wonderful  instinct,  aided  in  all  probability  by  an  extraordinarily 
developed  sense  of  touch,  to  carry  out  the  murderous  eviction 
of  all  its  foster  brothers  and  sisters  or  of  any  eggs  that  remain 
unhatched. 

The  earliest  account  which  we  have  of  the  exact  way  in 
which  j:he  deed  is  performed  is  that  of  the  great  Jenner, 
known  to  fame  as  the  discoverer  of  vaccination,  whose  ob- 
servations have  many  times  been  corroborated  in  the  most 
minute  detail.  The  young  Cuckoo  struggles  about  in  the  nest 
until  it  gets  its  broad,  shovel-shaped  back  under  an  egg  or  one 
of  its  fellow  tenants ;  it  then  climbs  backwards  up  the  side  of 
the  nest  and,  standing  with  its  legs  straddled  well  apart, 
c  33 


NURSERY  DAYS   AND  EDUCATION 

heaves  its  burden  on  to  the  edge,  completing  the  business  by 
elbowing  it  fairly  over  the  margin  with  its  featherless  wings. 
Having  made  sure  by  feeling  about  that  it  has  really  gone 
overboard,  the  blind  little  monster  sinks  to  the  bottom  of  the 
nest  and  rests  until  sufficiently  recovered  to  hoist  another 
victim  on  its  shoulders  and  thrust  it  out  in  the  same  manner. 
In  this  merciless  fashion  all  are  sacrificed,  and  the  usurper 
remains  in  sole  possession  of  the  nursery. 

Not  the  least  strange  part  of  the  story  is  that  the  birds 
whose  young  he  has  murdered  make  a  spoilt  child  of  him.  He 
becomes  the  sole  object  of  their  solicitous  care  and  thrives 
under  their  devotion.  Even  when  fully  fledged  and  con- 
siderably larger  than  his  hard -worked  foster-parents,  the 
overgrown  youngster  continues  for  some  time  to  receive  stolidly 
every  insect  that  they  can  bring  him.  To  see  him  receiving 
their  dainty  offerings  is  a  ludicrous  spectacle,  for  often  they 
have  difficulty  in  reaching  his  bill,  and  are  obliged  to  perch 
between  his  shoulders  in  order  to  put  the  food  into  his  cavern- 
ous, orange-yellow  mouth. 

From  the  examples  we  have  given  it  will  be  clear  that  a 
newly  hatched  nestling  is  possessed  of  a  wonderfully  complex 
automatic  machinery  which  enables  it,  when  exposed  to  certain 
conditions,  to  perform  instinctive  acts  with  a  great  amount  of 
skill.  But  we  have  also  seen  that  young  birds  learn  by  ex- 
perience and  imitation,  and  that  they  are  even  taught  many 
things  by  their  parents.  In  this  way  instinct  becomes  to  a  great 
extent  replaced  by  intelligence;  and  the  more  intelligent  the 
bird,  the  longer  the  education  through  which  it  passes  in  its 
early  days  before  it  is  able  to  look  after  itself  and  make  its  own 
way  in  the  world. 


34 


CHAPTER  II 
SITTING 

Incubation  period  —  Division  of  labour—  Domesticated  husbands  —  Swifts  — 
A  rebellious  hen—  The  cloistered  Hornbill—  Manner  of  leaving  and 
returning  to  the  nest  —  Protective  colouration—  Scene  in  a  heronry  — 
Pelican  Island—  Incubation  under  difficulties  —  Cold  and  heat. 


ATTER  an  egg  has  been  laid,  as  everybody  knows,  it  must 
be  kept  warm  for  a  certain  length  of  time,  amounting  in 
most  cases  to  two  or  three  weeks,  before  the  chick  is 
hatched.  No  less  familiar  is  the  method  by  which  this  is 
effected,  and  there  are  few  phases  of  bird-life  which  are  easier 
to  observe.  Anybody  may,  if  they  care  to  do  so,  see  a  Hen 
upon  the  nest,  brooding  over  her  eggs  with  feathers  puffed  out 
and  wings  slightly  drooped,  covering  them  patiently  hour  after 
hour  with  her  warm  body,  leaving  them  only  for  a  brief 
interval  from  time  to  time  in  order  to  feed,  and,  after  making  a 
hurried  meal,  returning  anxiously  to  her  treasures  to  renew  her 
long  vigil,  until  at  last,  on  some  wonderful  day,  her  patience  is 
rewarded  and  she  emerges  from  her  obscurity  in  all  the  pride  of 
motherhood,  surrounded  by  a  brood  of  tiny  chicks.  We  all 
know  this,  so  why  have  a  chapter  about  brooding?  Is  there 
anything  more  to  be  said  on  such  a  very  commonplace  subject? 
Yes,  there  is  a  great  deal  to  be  told  —  far  more  than  we  have 
space  for  here  —  and  I  think  we  shall  find  that,  like  most  pages 
from  the  life-history  of  a  bird,  the  more  we  know  of  it,  the 
more  interesting  it  becomes. 

The  period  of  incubation,  as  it  is  called  —  the  period  that 
elapses  between  the  moment  when  the  bird  begins  to  '  sit  "*  and 
the  hatching  of  the  egg  —  varies  greatly  with  different  kinds  of 

35 


SITTING 

birds.  The  domestic  Fowl  usually  takes  just  three  weeks,  but 
its  near  relative,  the  Pheasant,  takes  several  days  longer.  Most 
of  our  little  songsters  hatch  their  young  in  about  a  fortnight, 
and  some  small  birds  only  require  ten  days ;  but  a  Swan  must 
brood  upon  her  eggs  five  weary  weeks  or  longer,  and  the  great 
Condor  has  to  wait  almost  two  months  before  her  hungry 
offspring  emerges  from  the  shell.  It  is  usually  supposed  that 
weather  and  climate  have  something  to  do  with  the  length  of 
time  required  for  the  hatching  of  the  eggs — that  the  same  sort 
of  eggs  will  hatch  sooner  in  warm  weather  than  in  cold,  in  a 
hot  climate  than  in  a  cool  one ;  but  about  this  we  really  know 
very  little,  though  it  seems  probable  that  these  things  may 
make  some  little  difference. 

We  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  brooding  bird  as  "  she," 
and  we  are  seldom  wrong  in  doing  so,  for  in  almost  all  cases  the 
female  takes  the  principal  if  not  the  only  part  in  the  duties  of 
incubation.  If  we  turn  to  the  most  primitive  and  least  intelli- 
gent of  the  birds,  however,  we  find  just  the  opposite  state  of 
affairs ;  with  them  it  is  the  male  who  takes  upon  himself  these 
duties,  while  his  spouse  enjoys  a  life  of  freedom.  A  little 
higher  in  the  scale,  amongst  birds  of  rather  more  intelligence, 
cock  and  hen  share  the  brooding  between  them,  but  we  already 
find  the  female  performing  the  greater  part  of  the  work  and 
her  partner  acting  only  as  assistant.  When  we  come  to  the 
most  highly  developed  and  most  intelligent  of  birds,  the  wife 
undertakes  the  brooding,  while  the  husband  feeds  and  tends 
her  and  occasionally  relieves  her  for  a  little  while ;  he  watches 
over  her,  warns  her  of  danger,  protects  her,  entertains  her, 
sings  to  her,  and  generally  behaves  to  her  like  a  good  husband. 
A  charming  and,  so  far  as  we  are  aware,  quite  unique  character- 
istic of  the  domestic  life  of  the  Hawk-Owl  (Surnia  ululd)  has 
been  noticed  by  Mr.  Seebohm,  who  states  that  sometimes  both 
the  parent  birds  are  found  sitting  upon  the  nest  in  company. 

It  is  interesting  to  find  that  in  all  cases  in  which  the  hen  is 
larger  and  more  brightly  coloured  than  her  mate,  she  consist- 

36 


SITTING 

ently  shirks  her  duties,  and  he  takes  her  place  in  sitting  upon 
the  eggs.  There  are  not  many  such  birds,  and  of  these  but  a 
single  species  nests  in  Great  Britain — the  Red-necked  Phala- 
rope  (Phalaropus  Jiyperboreus).  The  Phalaropes  are  amongst  the 
most  graceful  of  birds,  and  are  allied  to  the  Plovers,  but,  unlike 
those  birds,  they  are  equally  at  home  on  land  or  water.  Their 
nest  is  placed  on  the  ground,  among  heather  or  herbage,  and 
when  the  male  bird  is  brooding  over  the  four  pale-brown,  dark- 
spotted  eggs,  he  is  so  faithful  to  his  charge  that  he  will  hardly 
leave  them  to  escape  being  trodden  upon.  Indeed,  these  birds 
are  extraordinarily  tame ;  and  it  is  unfortunate  for  them  that 
they  are  so,  for  they  fall  easy  victims  to  the  collector,  and 
the  race  is  rapidly  becoming  extinct  in  Britain.  That  is  a  fate 
which  has  already  overtaken  their  relatives  the  Dotterel  and 
the  Godwit,  which  now  only  come  to  us  as  occasional  visitors. 
Both  these  birds  resemble  the  Phalaropes  in  the  male  being 
smaller  than  the  female  and  performing  the  office  of  brooding, 
in  which  his  partner  takes  no  share.  In  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries  the  Godwit  was  a  famous  table  delicacy 
and  was  netted  in  great  numbers ;  at  the  same  time  it  was 
being  robbed  of  its  resorts  in  the  fens  by  drainage,  so  that  it  is 
now  lost  to  us.  The  Dotterel,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
Plover  kind,  has  shared  the  same  fate ;  and  we  have  thus, 
through  their  trustfulness  and  our  own  folly,  deprived  our- 
selves of  three  of  the  most  charming  of  birds.  The  word 
Dotterel  means  '  Little  Dolt ' ;  whether  the  bird  owes  its 
name  to  the  ease  with  which  it  is  caught,  or  to  the  eccentric 
behaviour  of  the  male  in  sitting  on  the  eggs  while  his  wife 
wanders  abroad,  or  to  both,  we  cannot  say. 

Some  birds,  amongst  which  are  the  Owls,  occasionally  begin 
to  brood  as  soon  as  the  first  egg  is  laid.  Owls  are  not  quite  so 
wise  as  they  look,  but  in  their  domestic  arrangements  they 
would  certainly  appear  to  display  much  wisdom  if  there  were 
any  reason  to  suppose  that  they  could  foresee  the  result  of 
their  action.  It  is  clear  that  the  eggs  which  are  first  laid  and 

37 


SITTING 

brooded  over  will  hatch  before  those  which  are  laid  several 
days  later,  and  this  is  an  advantage  to  the  parents  in  two  ways. 
In  the  first  place,  it  makes  it  easier  for  the  old  birds  to  provide 
for  their  young ;  and,  further,  the  warmth  of  the  earlier  chicks 
helps  to  incubate  the  eggs  which  are  still  unhatched  while  the 
father  and  mother  are  both  away  hunting  for  food.  But  the 
plan  would  not  do  at  all  in  the  case  of  birds  which  can  run 
about  almost  as  soon  as  they  are  hatched,  because  the  parent 
bird  would  not  be  able  to  brood  over  the  eggs  and  to  take 
charge  of  her  precocious  children,  both  at  the  same  time.  We 
find,  therefore,  that  birds  such  as  Pheasants  and  Plovers  never 
begin  to  sit  until  all  the  eggs  have  been  laid. 

We  have  already  mentioned  that  the  cock  often  keeps  the 
hen  company  and  sings  to  her  when  she  is  on  the  nest.  He 
may  sit  on  a  neighbouring  twig  while  he  pours  forth  his  song ; 
he  may  soar  aloft  like  the  Lark ;  or,  like  the  Swift,  he  may  call 
out  a  cheery  greeting  as  he  skims  past  her  in  rapid  flight.  This 
habit  of  the  Swifts  was,  I  believe,  first  noticed  by  Gilbert 
White.  The  Swift  is  especially  lively  in  sultry,  thundery 
weather.  "  In  hot  mornings  several,  getting  together  in  little 
parties,  dash  round  the  steeples  and  churches,  squeaking  as 
they  go  in  a  very  clamorous  manner ;  these,  by  nice  observers, 
are  supposed  to  be  males,  serenading  their  sitting  hens;  and 
not  without  reason,  since  they  seldom  squeal  till  they  come 
close  to  the  walls  or  eaves,  and  since  those  within  utter  at  the 
same  time  a  little  inward  note  of  complacency." 

In  the  evening,  however,  after  the  hen  has  been  sitting  all 
the  day  in  her  dark  nest,  she  darts  out  in  the  fading  twilight 
and  "stretches  and  relieves  her  weary  limbs,  and  snatches  a 
scanty  meal  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  returns  to  her  duty  of 
incubation."  But  she  does  not  always  return  very  willingly; 
sometimes  the  joy  of  that  mad  flight  is  too  fascinating  for  her, 
and  she  cannot  make  up  her  mind  to  return  to  the  narrow  hole 
under  the  eaves.  And  so  her  flight  is  prolonged,  until  her 
husband  has  to  interfere.  He  dashes  after  her  to  remind  her 

38 


SITTING 

that  she  really  must  be  going  home — that  she  has  already  been 
out  too  long,  and  that  the  eggs  are  growing  cold ;  and  will  she 
please  come  back  this  very  minute  ? 

Mr.  Hudson1  describes  how  he  watched  the  Swifts  at  Seaford 
going  through  this  interesting  performance.  He  says:  "It 
was  curious  and  amusing  to  see  a  pair  in  some  cases,  the  hen- 
bird  wildly  rushing  away,  the  mate  in  mad  pursuit,  and  then 
when  with  infinite  pains  she  had  been  driven  home  suddenly 
dashing  off  again,  and  the  wild  chase  about  the  sky  beginning 
afresh.  Once  I  saw  the  hen-bird  break  away  four  times  after 
being  brought  to  the  breeding-hole ;  but  after  the  fourth  time 
she  remained  in  the  nest,  and  the  good,  zealous  husband  went 
away  to  enjoy  himself.  A  swift  chasing  his  wife  home  in  the 
evening  can  easily  be  distinguished  from  one  swift  chasing 
another  swift  for  fun,  or  whatever  the  motive  is  that  keeps 
them  in  a  perpetual  hunt  after  one  another.  He  follows  her 
closely  in  all  her  mad  flights  and  sudden  doublings  until  he 
has  got  her  face  towards  home,  and  then  keeping  close 
to  her  agitates  his  wings  in  a  peculiar  manner,  at  intervals 
gliding  smoothly,  uttering  all  the  time  a  measured  sharp 
clicking  chirp — a  sound  as  of  repeated  strokes  on  a  piece  of 
metal." 

The  Hornbills  (Bucerotidai),  birds  with  an  immensely  devel- 
oped bill  surmounted  by  a  curious  outgrowth  called  the  casque^ 
are  given  no  opportunity  of  playing  truant  when  they  should 
be  keeping  their  eggs  warm,  for  the  hen-bird  is  carefully 
imprisoned  by  her  mate  in  the  hollow  tree  where  the  eggs  are 
deposited,  and  must  remain  there  until  the  young  are  almost 
fully  fledged.  The  incarceration  is  effected  by  building  up  a 
strong  barrier  at  the  entrance,  leaving  only  a  narrow  slit 
through  which  the  hen-bird  can  protrude  her  bill  to  receive  the 
food  brought  to  her  by  her  husband.  This  may  appear  a  very 
tyrannous  proceeding,  but  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  the 
imprisonment  is  not  quite  voluntary,  for  the  female  often  her- 
1  Nature  in  Downland,  p»  201. 
39 


SITTING 

self  assists  in  building  the  wall,  which  serves  to  protect  her 
against  the  attacks  of  monkeys  and  large  lizards.  The  male 
bird  is  very  attentive,  and  the  way  in  which  he  feeds  his  wife  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  in  the  life  of  these  strange 
birds. 

Their  diet  is  strictly  vegetarian,  consisting  of  various  kinds 
of  grape-  and  berry-like  fruits.  These  are  collected  by  the 
husband  and  brought  home  to  his  wife,  and  so  far  there  is  nothing 
extraordinary  in  the  proceeding,  for  many  birds  practise  this 
courtesy.  What  is  so  remarkable  in  the  case  of  the  Hornbill  is 
that  the  fruit  is  offered  in  a  neat  little  purse-like  bag !  The 
bag  is  about  the  size  of  a  fig,  which  it  resembles  also  in  shape, 
and  is  made  of  some  elastic  material,  so  that  it  is  neatly  filled 
by  the  little  collection  of  fruit  which  it  contains.  When  first 
these  curious  bags  of  fruit  were  discovered  they  were  a  great 
puzzle  to  naturalists,  but  it  was  soon  found  that  the  bag  is 
composed  of  the  lining  of  the  bird's  gizzard,  which  becomes 
loosened  and  is  cast  off' in  one  piece.  We  cannot  wonder,  there- 
fore, that  after  feeding  his  partner  for  several  weeks  the  devoted 
male  is  worn  to  a  shadow  by  his  self-sacrifice ! 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  the  various  ways  in  which  different 
species  of  birds  leave  and  return  to  the  nest.  The  departure  is 
usually  effected  without  ceremony,  the  bird  flying  directly  from 
the  side  of  the  nest  very  quietly  so  as  not  to  betray  its  where- 
abouts, but,  as  most  boys  are  aware,  some  species,  such  as 
Blackbirds,  are  very  clamorous  and  make  a  great  fuss  if  they 
are  surprised  and  frightened  off  the  eggs  while  sitting.  That, 
however,  is  not  their  usual  method  of  leaving  home  ;  but  there 
is  clearly  nothing  to  be  gained  by  silence  when  the  bird  knows 
that  its  nest  is  already  discovered.  The  Swallow-tailed  Kite 
(Elanoides  furcatus)  has  a  peculiar  way  of  rising  straight  up 
from  the  nest  for  a  little  distance,  as  if  it  were  projected  by  a 
spring.  No  other  bird  behaves  in  quite  the  same  manner, 
and  its  method  of  alighting  is  equally  peculiar,  for  it  hangs  in 
the  air  a  few  feet  above  the  nest  with  its  outspread  wings 

40 


SITTING 

apparently  motionless,  and  then  lowers  itself  upon  the  eggs  so 
gradually  that  it  is  difficult  to  say  just  when  it  alights. 

Kites  and  other  similar  birds  which  build  high  in  trees,  or 
other  inaccessible  places,  and  are  strong  enough  to  defend  their 
homes  against  winged  marauders,  need  not  attempt  to  conceal 
their  goings  and  comings,  but  it  is  different  with  the  ground- 
builders,  whose  safety  depends  entirely  on  their  success  in 
escaping  observation.  Many  of  these  birds  make  hardly  any 
nest — some,  indeed,  have  none  at  all — and  the  colour  of  their 
eggs  is  in  such  perfect  harmony  with  that  of  their  surround- 
ings that  it  is  very  difficult  to  detect  them  unless  you  know  the 
exact  spot  in  which  to  look  for  them.  Frequently  the  birds 
themselves  are  also  protectively  coloured,  so  that  it  is  only 
when  they  are  moving  that  they  are  at  all  likely  to  be  dis- 
covered. Such  birds  as  these  have  quite  a  different  method 
of  going  and  coming.  In  the  first  place,  they  seldom  fly 
directly  from  the  nest,  but  run  a  little  distance  before  rising 
from  the  ground.  I  believe  the  Skylark,  to  take  a  familiar 
example,  always  does  this,  and  I  have  never  seen  one  alight 
directly  upon  its  nest. 

Some  of  the  larger  ground-nesting  birds  are  extremely 
cautious  in  their  movements,  but  their  methods  differ  even  in 
the  same  species.  A  remarkable  instance  of  this  is  afforded 
by  the  Stone-Curlew  ((Edicnemus  scolopax\  one  of  our  summer 
visitors  which  is  met  with  chiefly  in  Norfolk  and  on  that  account 
is  often  spoken  of  as  the  Norfolk  Plover.  It  is  one  of  the 
largest  of  the  Plovers,  and  resorts  to  barren,  stony  ground  with 
scanty  vegetation,  where  it  lays  its  two  eggs  on  a  level  spot, 
without  the  slightest  attempt  at  a  nest.  The  eggs  so  closely 
resemble  in  colour  the  sandy,  flint-strewn  surface  that  only  a 
practised  eye  can  detect  them,  and  the  drab,  mottled  plumage 
of  the  bird  enables  it  to  escape  notice  except  at  quite  close 
quarters.  Even  then,  as  it  squats  with  its  neck  outstretched 
close  to  the  ground,  it  would  usually  pass  unobserved  if  it 
would  but  keep  its  large,  bright,  golden  eyes  closed.  Now 


SITTING 

this  bird  has  two  distinct  methods  of  approaching  its  eggs. 
One  way  is  to  move  very  deliberately  and  stealthily,  making 
long,  slow  strides,  with  its  head  held  low.  From  time  to  time 
it  pauses  or  remains  perfectly  still  for  several  minutes,  and  pro- 
ceeding thus  it  has  frequently  been  seen  by  patient  observers 
to  take  ten  minutes  or  longer  in  arriving  at  the  nest  from  a 
point  only  a  few  feet  away. 

The  other  method,  which  is  only  adopted,  I  believe,  after  the 
birds  have  begun  to  sit,  is  well  described  by  Mr.  Trevor-Battye  in 
his  Pictures  in  Prose.  He  says :  "  The  pair  of  which  I  speak 
had  chosen  the  middle  of  a  gravelly  space  among  the  pines.  By 
creeping  up  on  hands  and  knees  under  cover  of  a  bank  one 
could  gain  a  position,  just  fifteen  paces  away  from  the  nest, 
without  being  observed:  so  close  that  with  my  glass  I  could  see 
the  light  shine  through  the  crystal  prominence  of  the  sitting 
bird's  great  yellow  eyes.  At  intervals  one  bird  would  relieve 
the  other  on  the  nest.  When  disturbed  the  birds  always  ran 
for  shelter  to  a  bank  beneath  the  pines.  And  here  the  bird 
that  was  not  sitting  always  stood  as  sentry.  When  its  turn  came 
to  relieve  its  mate  it  would  walk  pretty  deliberately  across  the 
first  part  of  the  open,  where  it  was  more  or  less  screened  by  a 
fringe  of  trees;  and  there,  having  reached  a  point  that  was 
commanded  from  a  long  way  off,  it  would  suddenly  lower  its 
head,  and  run  as  fast  as  a  red-leg  to  the  nest.  When  it  was 
about  a  yard  away  the  sitting  bird  would  slip  off  and,  staying 
for  no  greetings,  run  past  and  away  to  the  pine- bank."  Mr. 
Trevor-Battye  noticed  that  the  bird  always  rose  from  the  nest 
backwards,  and  so  avoided  disturbing  the  eggs  with  its  long 
legs.  He  also  observed  that  "  the  new-comer  did  not  turn  the 
eggs  immediately,  but  squatted  perfectly  still  for  perhaps  a 
minute,  as  if  to  make  sure  it  was  not  disturbed.  And  after  the 
eggs  were  satisfactorily  bestowed,  and  all  the  coast  seemed  clear, 
the  bird  would  close  its  eyes  in  the  hot  sunshine  and  appear  to  go 
to  sleep.  But  even  then  I  could  scarce  move  so  much  as  a  finger 
above  the  grasses,  but  instantly  it  was  off  its  nest  and  away."" 

42 


SITTING 

This  delightful  picture  of  the  domestic  life  of  the  Stone- 
Curlew  introduces  us  to  another  interesting  question  of  bird- 
life  :  the  way  in  which  a  bird  relieves  its  partner  upon  the  nest. 

Let  us  first  take  an  instance  of  a  home-coming  from  amongst 
the  birds  of  our  own  land.  When  I  was  a  boy  I  used  occasion- 
ally to  make  a  breathless  excursion  to  a  small  heronry  which 
was  situated  in  the  midst  of  carefully  preserved  lands  in  a  mid- 
land county.  Even  now  I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  more 
than  one  such  visit,  for  the  way  lay  through  hostile  country 
where  schoolboys  did  not  meet  with  a  very  cordial  reception, 
and  the  keeper,  a  thick-set  man  with  keen  grey  eyes  and  a 
stone-wall  expression — or  perhaps  brick-wall  would  give  a  more 
correct  impression  of  his  sunburnt  complexion — was  a  danger 
to  be  reckoned  with  before  venturing  within  the  bounds ;  seen 
face  to  face  at  close  quarters  (it  happened  once),  there  was  a 
positively  painful  suggestion  of  massive  strength  about  him, 
and  an  even  more  discomforting  suggestion  in  the  short  ash- 
plant  (I  never  saw  him  carry  a  gun)  which  seemed  to  be  a  part 
of  his  awe-inspiring  presence.  I  mention  the  keeper  because  he 
had  a  hut  or  shelter  close  by  the  heronry,  and  it  was  owing  to 
this  circumstance  that  I  spent  more  time  watching  the  birds 
than  might  otherwise  have  been  the  case. 

Late  one  afternoon  I  had  cautiously  approached  the  heronry 
along  a  hedge  and  through  a  tangle  of  undergrowth  when  this 
much-dreaded  person  suddenly  appeared  outside  his  hut,  and 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  lie  hidden  and  await  an  oppor- 
tunity to  escape.  Herons  have  learnt  from  sad  experience  to  be 
the  shyest  of  birds  where  man  is  concerned,  but  the  members  of 
this  little  colony  must  have  decided  that  the  keeper  was  their 
good  friend.  Now  I  think  of  it,  I  believe  it  was  because,  as  I 
have  already  mentioned,  he  never  carried  a  gun — nor  did  I  ever 
hear  a  gun  fired  in  the  neighbourhood.  At  all  events,  the 
birds  did  not  appear  to  be  disturbed  by  his  presence,  and  were 
certainly  not  nearly  so  much  alarmed  as  the  small  boy  crouch- 
ing amongst  the  bushes. 

43 


SITTING 

On  that  afternoon,  watching  alternately  the  leisurely  move- 
ments of  the  keeper  and  the  bird  life  around,  I  got  to  know 
more  about  the  domestic  life  of  Herons  than  I  ever  had  an 
opportunity  of  learning  for  myself  before  or  after,  and  amongst 
other  things  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  see  one  of  the  birds 
return  to  the  nest,  where  his  partner  had  been  patiently  sitting, 
and  take  his  place  upon  the  eggs.  All  that  had  been  visible  of 
the  sitting  bird  was  her  sharp  bill,  and  occasionally  her  head 
and  a  portion  of  her  long  neck,  outlined  against  the  sky  over 
the  margin  of  the  big  nest  of  sticks  near  the  summit  of  a  tall 
elm  tree,  and  it  was  a  sharp  movement  of  this  tantalising  object 
which  first  directed  my  attention  to  the  returning  bird.  Look- 
ing towards  the  sky,  I  saw  him  sailing  in  the  direction  of  the 
heronry  in  a  grand  downward  sweep,  his  legs  trailing  out  behind, 
his  wings  outspread  and  raised  high  above  his  back,  and  his 
neck  bent  in  a  sharp  curve  so  that  his  head  was  drawn  far  back 
close  to  the  body.  As  he  drew  near,  his  partner  uttered  a 
sudden  harsh  cry  of  greeting,  which  he  answered  by  a  wild 
scream  as  he  stretched  out  his  neck  and  came  rushing  down. 

Just  before  he  reached  home  his  great  hollow  wings  were 
brought  smartly  downwards  to  check  his  fall  as  he  alighted  and 
balanced  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  nest ;  at  the  same  moment, 
his  mate  stood  up  and  they  joined  in  a  regular  duet  of  scream- 
ing. Whether  she  was  scolding  him  for  being  so  late  and  he 
was  explaining  that  it  had  taken  him  so  long  to  get  his  dinner 
that  he  really  couhkft  help  it,  or  whether  they  were  just  telling 
one  another  how  glad  they  were  to  meet  again,  it  was  impossible 
to  say.  In  any  case,  they  soon  became  silent,  and  then  the  bird 
which  had  just  arrived  lowered  his  head  and  seemed  to  be  care- 
fully examining  the  eggs  before  bending  his  long  legs  and 
sinking  down  into  the  hollow  of  the  nest.  As  he  disappeared 
from  sight  his  partner  shook  out  her  plumage  and  flew  off, 
with  slowly  beating  wings,  towards  the  feeding-grounds,  and 
again  the  voices  of  the  small  birds  in  the  bushes  below,  un- 
observed while  this  interesting  scene  was  being  enacted,  were 

44 


Stereo  Copyright,  Under-wood  &•  U.  London  and  New  York 

BROWN  PELICANS  AT  HOME 

Pelican  Island,  off  the  east  coast  of  Florida,  has  been  handed  over  to  these  birds 
by  the  American  Government,  by  whom  they  are  strictly  protected.  So  many  pelicans 
have  set  up  house  on  the  island  that  all  the  mangrove  trees  have  been  killed. 


SITTING 

the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  silence  of  the  heronry.  An  this 
took  place,  as  I  have  good  cause  to  remember,  late  in  the  after- 
noon ;  the  other  change — for  these  birds  only  work  two  shifts 
during  the  whole  of  the  day  and  night — occurs  in  the  early 
morning  soon  after  the  sun  is  up. 

On  the  east  coast  of  Florida  there  is  a  muddy  islet,  not  more 
than  three  or  four  acres  in  extent,  which  is  known  as  Pelican 
Island  because  a  colony  of  Brown  Pelicans  (Pelecanus  fusctts) 
have  annexed  it  for  their  very  own.  They  are  practically  the 
only  inhabitants,  and  their  claim  is  backed  up  by  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  United  States,  who  will  not  allow  any  one  to  inter- 
fere with  the  birds.  Nobody  is  at  all  likely  to  want  to  take 
possession  of  their  diminutive  country,  because  it  is  little  more 
than  a  mud-bank  and  only  one  little  corner  of  that  is  really 
safe,  for  when  the  '  northers '  come  the  waters  sweep  over  the 
remainder  of  the  islet  and  destroy  scores  of  nests.  The 
Pelicans,  however,  are  a  patriotic  race  and  devoted  to  the  land 
of  their  birth ;  no  doubt  they  regard  it  as  a  very  fine  country 
indeed,  for  they  return  to  it  year  after  year  for  the  purpose  of 
bringing  up  their  families.  When  they  first  landed  the  tiny 
islet  was  well  grown  with  mangroves,  which  are  equally  fond  of 
mud-banks ;  but  so  many  Pelicans  went  to  live  there  and  built 
their  nests  upon  them,  that  tree  after  tree  was  killed,  and  at 
the  present  time  there  is  scarcely  one  remaining  which  does 
not  present  the  desolate  appearance  which  is  shown  so  well  in 
our  photograph. 

The  birds  arrive  early  in  November,  and  within  a  month 
they  have  all  set  up  house  and  are  busy  laying  their  two  white, 
chalky-looking  eggs.  The  husband  and  wife  share  the  sitting 
between  them,  and  when  the  time  comes  for  changing  over — 
which  occurs  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  with  no  sort  of 
regularity — they  go  through  quite  an  elaborate  ceremony. 
Let  us  suppose  that  the  male  is  coming  home  from  his  fishing. 
He  alights  near  the  nest  where  his  partner  is  sitting,  and  with 
his  great  bill  pointing  straight  up  in  the  air  he  slowly  advances, 

45 


SITTING 

waving  his  head  from  side  to  side.  His  wife,  on  the  contrary, 
sticks  the  point  of  her  bill  down  into  the  nest,  twitches  her  half- 
opened  wings,  and  greets  him  with  a  husky,  gasping  "  chuck  I  * 
— the  only  sound  a  grown-up  Pelican  can  utter.  Having 
saluted  one  another  in  this  curious  manner  there  is  a  pause  in 
the  proceedings,  which  is  occupied  by  both  birds  preening  and 
arranging  their  feathers.  The  male  then  steps  on  to  the  nest  and 
settles  down,  while  his  spouse  goes  to  bathe  and  attend  to  her 
toilet  before  setting  out  to  catch  fish  for  her  dinner  or  to  circle 
high  into  the  air  in  one  of  the  wonderful  soaring  flights  for 
which  these  great  birds  are  so  famous. 

A  few  birds,  such  as  the  Raven,  display  great  hardihood  in 
their  endurance  of  cold  when  sitting.  One  of  the  most  remark- 
able of  these  is  the  Great  Horned  Owl.  In  the  northern  States 
this  is  the  first  of  all  the  birds  to  nest,  and  in  spite  of  ice  and 
snow  it  starts  housekeeping  about  the  end  of  January.  On 
some  tall  forest  tree,  very  often  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  exposed 
to  the  full  force  of  storms  and  blizzards,  the  hardy  mother  sits 
upon  the  rude  platform  of  sticks  which  does  duty  for  a  nest, 
while  the  temperature  is  still  far  below  zero.  It  sometimes 
happens  that  the  eggs  are  frozen  by  the  intense  cold ;  in  that 
case  the  bird  merely  buries  them  in  the  loose  rubbish  of  the 
nest  and,  undiscouraged  by  the  disaster,  lays  another  set.  The 
same  nest  may  be  used  year  after  year,  until  at  last  it  becomes 
so  rotten  that,  incapable  of  supporting  another  family,  it  falls 
to  pieces  before  the  young  are  reared,  and  the  little  ones  have 
to  be  brooded  upon  the  bare  bough. 

Equally  hardy,  on  occasion,  is  the  Black  Gyrfalcon  (Falco 
rusticolus  obsoletus).  Mr.  Turner,  of  the  United  States  Signal 
Service,  found  that  a  pair  of  these  birds  had  made  their  home 
at  Fort  Chimo  on  the  ledge  of  a  great  rock  which  forms  a 
precipice  three  hundred  feet  high.  The  nest  was  shut  in  by  a 
regular  palisade  of  ice  columns,  and  could  only  be  approached 
by  a  narrow  space  or  doorway  next  the  main  rock ;  yet  for 
nearly  a  fortnight  the  birds  had  been  successfully  incubating 

46 


SITTING 

their  four  eggs  in  this  ice  chamber,  better  suited,  one  would 
have  thought,  for  cold  storage  than  for  hatching ! 

Even  this,  however,  is  by  no  means  the  most  extraordinary  case 
of  incubation  under  difficulties.  In  choice  of  time  and  place 
for  nesting — if  nesting  it  can  be  called — the  eccentricity  of  the 
great  Emperor  Penguin  of  the  Antarctic  is  unrivalled.  Laying 
its  single  large  egg  amidst  the  darkness  of  a  polar  winter — 
when  the  thermometer  sometimes  shows  a  temperature  of 
100°  Fahrenheit  below  freezing  point,  and  the  average  for  a 
month  is  but  50°  higher  than  that — this  strange  bird  spends 
the  seven  coldest  weeks  of  the  whole  year  in  brooding  over  it ; 
and  the  ground  whereon  it  chooses  to  keep  vigil  in  these  cheer- 
less circumstances  is  nothing  in  the  world  but  sea-ice !  To  bring 
about  a  successful  result  and  hatch  a  chick  amidst  such  con- 
ditions very  special  and  peculiar  methods  are  necessary;  but 
the  difficulty,  we  need  hardly  say,  has  been  solved  in  the 
evolution  of  these  remarkable  birds,  otherwise  they  could  never 
have  acquired  their  extraordinary  habit. 

Given  a  bird,  an  egg,  a  field  of  ice,  a  temperature  50°  below 
freezing  point,  and  never  a  gleam  of  sunlight,  the  problem  is 
to  keep  the  egg  warm  enough  for  a  chick  to  be  produced  from 
it.  Could  anything  be  more  discouraging,  or  so  apparently 
hopeless  ?  You  would  suppose  that  the  first  essential  would  be 
that  the  bird  should  make  a  particularly  warm  nest  in  which  to 
incubate.  But  without  materials  nest-building  is  obviously 
impossible,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  Emperor  Penguin  dis- 
penses altogether  with  such  a  luxury.  The  plan  it  adopts  is  to 
stand  upright  and  keep  the  egg  off  the  ice  by  placing  it  on  the 
top  of  its  large  webbed  feet,  where  it  is  held  in  position  and 
covered  by  a  heavily  feathered  fold  of  skin  from  the  under  side 
of  the  body,  which  hangs  over  it  like  a  curtain  and  completely 
hides  it.  By  this  close  contact  with  the  body  a  sufficiently  high 
temperature  is  maintained  to  bring  about  the  development  of  a 
chick,  which  emerges  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  week  as  queer- 
looking  an  object  as  one  could  well  imagine,  a  pair  of  wide  goggle- 

47 


SITTING 

like  rings  round  its  eyes  and  a  thick  coat  of  down  giving  it  a 
general  appearance  of  being  dressed  for  a  motor  journey. 

Great  heat  is  perhaps  more  often  fatal  to  the  nesting  of 
birds  than  excessive  cold.  On  the  plains  of  India,  if  a  Sand- 
Grouse  be  frightened  from  its  eggs  for  any  length  of  time  they 
begin  to  cook  under  the  fierce  sun,  and  doubtless  the  same 
accident  befalls  other  birds.  But  if  Nature  can  devise  means 
whereby  an  egg  can  be  hatched  in  the  terrible  cold  of  an 
Antarctic  winter,  so  too  can  she  teach  birds  how  to  ward  off 
the  danger  to  ineubation  arising  from  tropical  heat.  Thus 
according  to  the  Indians,  Dr.  Wallace  tells  us,  the  Gulls  and 
Terns  on  the  Amazon  carry  water  in  their  beaks,  during  the  heat 
of  the  day,  to  moisten  their  eggs  (which  are  deposited  in  little 
hollows  on  the  sand -banks)  and  keep  them  cool ;  and  other 
birds  are  said  to  act  on  similar  principles.  This,  however, 
introduces  us  to  a  subject  which  we  must  consider  in  the  next 
chapter — the  subject  of  incubation  without  body-heat. 


CHAPTER  III 
BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

Extremes  of  the  brooding  instinct— Aids  to  incubation— Sun-warmth :  its 
advantages  and  dangers  —  Ostrich,  Sand-Grouse,  and  Black-backed 
Courser— The  Mound-Builders  and  their  incubators— Maleos— Choice  of 
ground— Hot  springs — The  buried  chick— Brush-Turkey— Heat  from 
fermenting  vegetable  matter — Attending  to  the  incubator— Large  feet  of 
Mound-birds— Megapodes— Immense  size  of  mounds  — Ocellated  Mega- 
pode— Precocity  of  Mound- bird  chicks— Volcanic  heat. 

WE  do  not  always  sufficiently  realise  how  very  great  is 
the  variety  of  character  exhibited  by  different  kinds 
of  birds  and  even  by  different  individuals  of  the  same 
species.  I  do  not  refer  now  to  the  more  conspicuous  aspects  of 
their  nature — the  fierceness  of  the  nobler  Birds-of-Prey,  the 
quarrelsome  nature  of  that  familiar  rowdy,  the  Sparrow,  the 
sociability  of  so  many  other  Finches  or  of  Parrots,  and  so  forth 
— these  are  things  which  force  themselves  upon  the  attention  of 
the  least  observant  person.  I  am  thinking  rather  of  the 
domestic  side  of  their  lives,  and  more  especially  of  their  way  of 
carrying  out  parental  duties.  As  we  have  already  been  con- 
sidering the  question  of  incubation  in  the  last  chapter,  it  will 
be  interesting  and  convenient  now  to  give  a  few  instances  of  the 
remarkable  extremes  of  this  instinct,  and  to  show  how  some 
birds  seem  to  be  overcome  by  an  irresistible  longing  to  devote 
themselves  to  the  tedious  duty  of  brooding  over  a  nest,  while 
others  manage  to  become  parents  without  spending  a  single 
hour  of  their  lives  thus  occupied. 

In  many  birds  the  desire  to  'sit'  appears  at  some  time  or 
other  to  be  quite  overwhelming.     I  need  hardly  remind  you  of 
D  49 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

the  obstinate  way  in  which  a  broody  Hen  will  insist  upon 
settling  down  not  only  upon  a  nest  of  eggs,  but  upon  anything 
which  bears  the  slightest  resemblance  to  an  egg;  she  will  be 
perfectly  satisfied  with  a  smooth  stone  in  a  quiet  corner,  if  she 
can  find  nothing  better.  Once,  in  a  disused  barn,  I  came  upon 
a  Hen  brooding  over  two  potatoes,  and  from  their  appearance 
I  have  no  doubt  she  had  been  sitting  on  them  for  several  days — 
as  happy,  probably,  as  a  child  with  a  rag  doll.  And  see  how 
disconsolate  our  Hen  is  if  we  will  not  leave  her  in  peace ;  how 
dejected  she  looks  as  she  wanders  about  the  farmyard,  until 
at  last  she  "goes  off  being  broody,"  as  the  country  people 
say. 

A  similar  longing  appears  to  take  possession  of  the  males 
of  certain  species  during  the  breeding  season.  It  is  often  seen 
in  domestic  Pigeons,  and,  as  Mr.  Dixon  remarks,  "  the  older  a 
cock -pigeon  grows,  the  more  fatherly  does  he  become.  So 
great  is  his  fondness  for  having  a  rising  family,  that  an 
experienced  unmated  cock-bird,  if  he  can  but  induce  some 
flighty  young  hen  to  lay  him  a  couple  of  eggs  as  a  great  favour, 
will  almost  entirely  take  the  charge  of  hatching  and  rearing 
them  by  himself."  Brehm,  the  famous  German  naturalist, 
somewhere  describes  the  amusing  situations  which  he  observed 
in  Lapland  as  a  result  of  this  instinct  in  the  case  of  some  Auks. 
Amongst  these  attractive  birds  the  males  are  in  the  majority, 
consequently  every  year  some  of  them  are  obliged,  much  against 
their  will,  to  remain  bachelors.  About  Easter-time  the  great 
flocks  hurry  back  from  the  sea  to  reach  the  bergs  where  they 
were  born — for  these  birds,  like  many  others,  seem  always  to 
return  if  possible  to  their  birthplace,  when  they  in  their  turn 
are  intent  on  bringing  up  a  family  of  their  own.  The  more 
fortunate  ones,  that  is  to  say  those  who  have  found  mates,  may 
be  seen  coquetting  and  indulging  in  playful  caresses  by  the  way, 
while  the  disconsolate  bachelors  keep  them  company. 

On  reaching  the  berg,  they  all,  married  and  single,  land,  and 
the  paired  birds  hasten  to  put  their  old  nesting-holes  in  order 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

or  to  make  new  ones.  In  due  course  a  big,  top-like  egg  appears 
in  every  burrow,  and  the  happy  parents  take  turns  in  brooding 
over  it.  What  becomes  of  the  bachelors  meanwhile  ?  They 
too  would  very  much  like  to  brood  if  they  could  but  find  a 
mate,  but  that  is  out  of  the  question.  So  many  of  them  attach 
themselves  to  some  happy  couple  as  friends  of  the  family, 
and  keep  the  husband  company  while  he  stands  on  guard  before 
the  nest  on  which  his  wife  is  brooding.  From  time  to  time,  the 
husband  takes  a  turn  on  the  nest  while  his  partner  goes  to  the 
sea  to  fish,  but  his  bachelor  friend  still  mounts  guard ;  indeed 
most  of  his  leisure  is  spent  in  this  way.  It  is  when  both 
partners  visit  the  sea  together,  however,  that  he  finds  his  oppor- 
tunity and  his  reward,  for  on  these  occasions  he  eagerly  enters 
the  burrow  and  takes  a  turn  at  sitting  upon  the  forsaken  egg, 
only  resigning  the  position  when  the  owners  return.  As  a 
result  of  this  unselfish  conduct  orphans  are  unknown  amongst 
these  birds,  just  as  they  are  unknown  amongst  the  Penguins, 
for  even  if  both  parents  come  to  grief,  the  bachelor  birds  are 
always  ready  to  finish  hatching  the  egg  and  to  take  charge  of 
the  chick  during  the  weeks  which  pass  before  it  is  capable  of 
attempting  its  first  flight  to  the  sea. 

Now  let  us  look  at  the  other  side  of  the  picture.  In  striking 
contrast  to  the  birds  which  we  have  been  considering,  there  are 
others  which  so  arrange  matters  as  to  get  their  eggs  hatched 
without  their  own  personal  care  and  attention  during  the  process 
of  incubation — or,  at  all  events,  with  as  little  as  possible.  The 
methods  which  they  adopt  to  this  end  are  of  remarkable 
interest,  and  we  may  well  devote  the  remainder  of  the  present 
chapter  to  describing  them.  We  are  not  concerned  now  with 
Cuckoos,  which  artfully  foist  their  eggs  upon  other  birds  and 
leave  them  to  their  fate — we  have  already  had  something  to 
say  about  their  conduct ;  but  with  those  birds  whose  eggs  are 
incubated  without  the  help  of  body-warmth,  in  much  the  same 
way  as  the  eggs  of  domestic  fowls  are  often  nowadays  hatched 
in  an  artificial  incubator  by  the  heat  from  a  lamp,  except  that 

5' 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

the  artificial  incubators  of  the  bird  world  are  supplied  with 
heat  in  a  different  way. 

As  might  be  supposed,  it  is  only  in  very  warm  climates  that 
birds'  '  artificial  incubation '  could  as  a  rule  be  carried  on  with 
any  hope  of  success,  and  you  will  of  course  at  once  guess  that 
one  way  in  which  it  can  be  brought  about  is  by  the  heat  of  the 
sun.  Until  recent  years  it  was  commonly  believed  that  Ostrich 
eggs  were  always  hatched  in  that  way;  but  like  many  other 
popular  ideas  about  the  life  of  birds,  this  one  is  not  quite  true. 
The  real  facts  are  as  follows. 

The  Ostrich,  like  its  near  relatives  the  Emus,  Rheas,  and 
Cassowaries — all,  indeed,  except  the  curious  little  New  Zealand 
Kiwis,  which  nest  in  burrows — is  content  with  very  little  in 
the  way  of  a  nest,  which  consists  of  nothing  more  than  a 
slight  hollow  scratched  in  the  ground.  We  know  exactly  how 
the  Ostrich  makes  the  nest  hollow,  and  as  it  is  as  peculiar  as 
everything  else  about  this  strange  bird,  it  is  worth  describing. 

You  have  no  doubt  noticed  that  when  an  ordinary  domestic 
Hen  wants  to  take  a  dust-bath  in  the  warm  weather,  she  often 
prepares  for  it  by  standing  on  the  chosen  spot  and  scratching 
up  the  dry  earth  with  her  claws  until  she  has  made  a  con- 
venient little  hollow  in  which  she  can  crouch  and  flutter  her 
feathers.  Most  birds  which  have  occasion  to  scratch  holes  in 
the  ground,  whether  for  the  purpose  of  dusting,  searching  for 
food,  or  providing  a  receptacle  for  their  eggs,  go  to  work  in 
the  same  manner.  Not  so  the  Ostrich ;  he  uses  his  immensely 
strong  legs  in  quite  a  different  way.  Having  decided  where 
the  nest  is  to  be,  with  one  of  his  wives  (he  usually  has  at  least 
three  or  four)  in  attendance,  he  sinks  down  on  his  breast,  and 
in  that  position  proceeds  to  tear  up  the  sand  with  powerful 
kicks,  casting  it  behind  him  as  he  does  so.  When  one  part  of 
the  hole  is  deep  enough,  he  turns  round  and  continues  the 
operation  in  another  direction  until  he  has  made  a  circular 
hollow,  about  a  yard  wide.  Meanwhile  his  wife  stands  by  and 
looks  on ;  now  and  then  she  makes  some  show  of  helping  him 

52 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

by  picking  up  a  little  sand  in  her  beak  and  dropping  it  about 
the  edges  of  the  hole,  but  her  part  is  mainly  that  of  an  inter- 
ested spectator.  The  work  is  soon  completed,  and  the  result  is 
a  shallow  pit,  around  which  the  loosened  earth  is  heaped  in  a 
low  bank.  Against  this  bank,  in  due  course,  the  outermost 
circle  of  eggs  will  rest.  The  hens  now  begin  to  lay,  all  in  the 
same  nest,  each  of  them  depositing  an  egg  every  other  day, 
until  there  are  from  fifteen  to  thirty  altogether.  There  may 
be  as  many  more  scattered  around  the  nest,  arid  these,  as  we 
shall  see  in  another  chapter,  have  their  own  peculiar  use. 

Until  ten  or  a  dozen  eggs  have  been  laid  the  nest  is  left  un- 
attended, both  day  and  night,  with  no  protection  except  a 
thin  covering  of  sand  against  the  deadly  wild-beast  foes  which 
prowl  about  the  desert  tracts.  When  that  stage  is  reached, 
however,  the  male  bird  begins  to  brood  over  the  eggs,  taking 
his  place  upon  them  at  nightfall,  surrounded  by  his  wives. 
But  the  process  of  hatching  is  principally  dependent  upon  the 
burning  sunshine  and  the  hot  desert  sand,  for  during  the  day 
the  eggs  are  left  in  the  pit  unattended,  covered  as  before  by  a 
thin  layer  of  sand,  while  the  birds  go  hunting  for  food  or  make 
long  journeys  in  quest  of  water. 

In  the  cooler  portions  of  the  country  which  the'  Ostriches 
inhabit,  and  on  the  South  African  farms,  the  heat  of  the  sun 
is  apparently  not  sufficient  to  enable  them  thus  to  play  truant, 
for  in  these  localities  the  hens  brood  by  day.  But  from  the 
boundaries  of  Barbary,  throughout  the  tropical  region  to- 
wards the  South,  where  the  birds  are  in  attendance,  whether 
by  day  or  by  night,  it  would  seem  to  be  for  the  purpose  of 
guarding  their  treasure  from  jackals  and  other  small  beasts  of 
prey  rather  than  from  any  real  necessity  for  helping  to  keep 
the  eggs  warm. 

Many  birds  besides  Ostriches  and  their  near  relatives  are 
relieved  to  some  extent  from  the  duties  of  incubation  owing  to 
the  warmth  of  the  sun  in  the  countries  which  they  inhabit : 
amongst  them  are  the  Sand-Grouse  and  other  species  that 

53 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

make  their  home  on  deserts  and  sands.  In  some  places,  how- 
ever, where  the  heat  is  very  great  indeed — in  the  hotter  parts 
of  India,  for  instance — we  find  the  exact  opposite  to  be  the 
case;  the  birds  are  obliged  to  remain  on  the  nest  all  day, 
exposed  to  the  terrible  heat,  not  because  the  eggs  would  grow 
cold  if  left  to  themselves,  but  because  they  would  soon  be 
cooked  if  they  remained  uncovered !  According  to  Captain 
Verner,  the  Black-backed  Courser  (Cursoriiis  ccgyptius\  which 
buries  its  eggs  in  the  sand  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  has  found 
a  more  ingenious  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  The  bird  dips  its 
breast  in  the  river  until  the  feathers  are  thoroughly  soaked 
with  water,  and  then  presses  it  against  the  sand  under  which 
its  eggs  are  concealed.  In  this  manner  the  ground  is  kept 
moist,  and  the  evaporation  of  the  water  prevents  the  sand,  and 
therefore  the  eggs,  from  becoming  overheated,  just  as  those 
porous  earthen  jars  which  are  used  in  Spain  and  other  countries 
about  the  Mediterranean  and  elsewhere  keep  the  water  which 
is  contained  in  them  cool  and  fresh  by  evaporation  of  the 
moisture  which  percolates  to  the  outer  surface  of  the  vessel. 

All  the  birds  which  we  have  hitherto  mentioned  are  mere 
amateurs  in  the  making  of  artificial  incubators  compared  with 
the  order  of  which  we  have  now  to  speak,  that,  namely,  which 
consists  of  the  various  birds  known  as  Mound-Builders. 

Of  these  there  are  several  kinds,  and  all  of  them  are  humble 
relatives  of  our  Common  Fowl,  living  in  Australia  and  various 
islands  from  New  Guinea  to  the  Philippines.  More  than  three 
hundred  years  ago  travellers  brought  home  wonderful  stories  of 
the  strange  habits  of  these  birds,  but  naturalists  were  slow  to 
believe  them,  regarding  their  accounts  as  mere  'travellers' 
tales '  and  nothing  more.  We  know  now  that  these  old  stories 
were  fairly  accurate  as  far  as  they  went,  and  that  they  did  not 
recount  half  the  curious  works  which  are  wrought  by  the 
Mound-Builders. 

The  fact  is,  the  birds  of  this  strange  order  have  discovered 
the  art  of  making  efficient  artificial  incubators  which  relieve 

54 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

them  entirely  of  the  duty  of  brooding  over  their  eggs.  Some 
of  them,  it  is  true,  merely  bury  their  eggs  in  the  ground,  but 
even  these  are  often  remarkable  for  the  skill  with  which  they 
choose  the  sort  of  ground  which  will  best  suit  their  purpose ; 
others,  however,  prepare  elaborate  structures  which  are  begun 
many  weeks  before  the  eggs  are  laid. 

An  example  of  the  first  kind  is  the  Maleo  (Megacephalon 
mako),  first  fully  described  by  Dr.  Wallace  in  his  book  about 
the  Malay  Archipelago.  This  bird  inhabits  the  island  of 
Celebes,  and  is  the  only  Mound-Builder  which  is  at  all  remark- 
able for  its  colour.  Most  of  them  are  dull,  plain-looking  birds, 
but  the  Maleo  has  not  only  a  glossy  black  and  rosy- white  body, 
but  its  bare  neck  is  bright  red,  and  on  the  back  of  its  head  it 
bears  a  peculiar  ornamental  knob,  like  a  small  helmet.  The 
nesting-place  described  by  Dr.  Wallace  was  a  large  uninhabited 
bay  between  two  islands,  where  a  forest  extends  to  the  edge  of 
a  steep  beach  composed  of  loose  black  sand.  All  the  rest  of 
the  beach  is  white,  and  the  reason  why  this  portion  is  black  is 
that  ages  ago  a  great  stream  of  lava  from  a  neighbouring 
volcano  here  flowed  down  a  valley  to  the  sea,  and  it  is  by  the 
breaking  up  of  the  lava  that  the  black  gravel  has  been  formed. 

To  this  unattractive  spot  numbers  of  Maleos  repair  year  by 
year  to  deposit  their  eggs,  in  August  or  September,  when  there 
is  seldom  any  rain.  They  fly  down  to  the  beach  from  the 
interior  of  the  island  in  pairs,  often  travelling  ten  or  fifteen 
miles ;  and  when  they  arrive  at  the  nesting-ground  both  birds 
begin  to  scratch  a  hole  in  the  hot,  black  sand,  just  above  high- 
water  mark.  The  Maleo's  toes  are  joined  together  by  a  strong 
web,  forming  a  broad,  powerful  foot,  and  when  the  birds  are 
engaged  in  digging  the  sand  flies  up  in  a  perfect  shower.  In 
this  way  a  hole  three  or  four  feet  in  depth  is  soon  excavated, 
and  at  the  bottom  a  single  large  egg  is  laid.  After  covering  it 
over  with  about  a  foot  of  sand  the  birds  return  to  the  forest. 
In  rather  less  than  a  fortnight  they  again  go  down  to  the  beach 
in  company  and  once  more  set  to  work  at  the  same  spot. 

55 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

Another  egg  is  then  laid,  very  near  to  the  first.  The  hole  is 
partly  filled  in  every  time  an  egg  is  deposited,  so  the  birds  have 
to  renew  their  labour  at  each  visit.  It  often  happens  that 
many  birds  lay  in  the  same  hole,  a  dozen  eggs,  or  even  more, 
being  frequently  found  together.  The  natives  regard  the  eggs 
as  a  great  delicacy,  and  visit  the  beach  every  year  from  a 
distance  of  fifty  miles  around  on  purpose  to  obtain  them. 
They  are  richer  than  Hens'*  eggs,  and  as  one  of  them  is  large 
enough  to  fill  a  fair-sized  tea-cup  it  is  sufficient,  with  a  little 
rice  or  bread,  for  a  very  good  meal. 

Why,  it  may  be  asked,  do  the  Maleo-birds  choose  the 
unattractive-looking  black  ashes  in  preference  to  the  clean, 
white  sand  which  covers  the  rest  of  the  beach  of  Wallace  Bay  ? 
The  latter  would  seem  to  be  far  more  suitable,  for  the  ashes  are 
rough  and  coarse,  consisting  of  fragments  of  lava  each  of  which 
is  about  the  size  of  a  bean.  Perhaps  there  is  some  special 
advantage  in  the  dark  colour.  Let  us  consider  this.  You 
know  that  if  you  wear  a  black  jacket  in  very  hot,  sunny  weather 
you  feel  much  hotter  than  you  do  if  you  wear  a  white  one ; 
that  is  because  black  absorbs  heat,  while  white  reflects  it ;  and 
here  we  seem  to  have  the  true  reason  why  the  birds  choose  the 
black  gravel  instead  of  the  white  sand,  not  only  in  Wallace 
Bay,  but  at  other  places  on  these  shores  where  the  same  condi- 
tions exist.  Everywhere,  so  far  as  we  know,  they  show  the 
same  preference. 

This  is  a  wonderful  instinct ;  but  the  Maleo-birds  of  the 
Bone  Valley  are  even  more  sagacious.  Here  two  cousins  named 
Sarazin,  both  of  them  naturalists,  came  upon  a  great  number  of 
pits  dug  out  quite  close  together  in  a  bamboo  thicket,  and  on  a 
search  being  made  several  new-laid  eggs  were  discovered.  Now 
this  valley  is  about  seven  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea,  and  the  temperature  is  rather  low,  especially  in  the 
forest,  so  it  seemed  surprising  that  Maleo  eggs  left  buried  in 
the  ground  should  ever  produce  chicks.  Further  on  and  at  a 
still  greater  height — this  time  about  one  thousand  five  hundred 

56 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

feet  above  the  sea — more  diggings  were  found.  What  was  the 
explanation  ?  It  was  this :  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  pits 
in  each  case  there  was  a  warm  spring,  the  water  of  one  of  them 
being  so  hot  that  it  caused  the  skin  to  smart  and  tingle  when  a 
hand  was  plunged  in  it,  and  these  springs  provided  the  neces- 
sary heat  for  the  birds1  incubators.  Wherever  Maleo-birds 
were  found  in  the  interior  of  the  Celebes,  warm  springs  were 
sure  to  be  discovered  not  far  away. 

When  the  eggs  have  been  buried  the  mother  pays  no  further 
attention  to  them,  but  leaves  them  to  hatch  in  the  hot  sand. 
Fortunately  they  require  no  attention,  for  even  if  they  did  it  is 
difficult  to  see  how  the  parents  could  remain  to  watch  over 
them.  Hundreds  of  birds  visit  this  place  to  lay  their  eggs,  and 
as  their  food  consists  entirely  of  fallen  fruits,  in  search  of  which 
they  are  obliged  to  wander  far  afield,  and  the  eggs  are  laid  at 
such  long  intervals  (about  eight  eggs  are  laid  during  the  season, 
and  it  takes  the  bird  three  months  altogether  to  produce  them), 
the  supply  of  food  would  be  insufficient,  and  the  birds  would 
all  very  soon  die  of  hunger  if  they  remained  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  beach.  Besides  this,  owing  to  the  continuous 
diggings  the  surface  of  the  sand  becomes  not  unlike  that  of 
a  rough,  confused  sea,  and  is  constantly  changing  in  appearance, 
so  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  a  bird  would  be  able,  after  a 
short  time,  to  discover  the  spot  where  she  laid  her  first  egg. 
And  even  supposing  all  the  birds  which  bury  their  eggs  in  one 
hole  were  to  stay  beside  it,  they  could  not  possibly  know  their 
own  chicks  when  they  made  their  way  out  of  the  ground. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  circumstances  about  these  birds, 
and  others  with  similar  habits,  is  that  the  chicks  should  ever 
escape  from  the  mound  at  all.  Any  ordinary  chick — a  young 
Turkey,  for  example — would  be  quite  helpless  if  it  found  itself 
buried  alive  when  it  escaped  from  the  shell ;  but  not  so  the 
young  Maleo.  We  have  already  mentioned  that  the  eggs  are 
very  large,  and  we  find  that  the  chicks  produced  from  them  are 
fine,  vigorous  youngsters  from  the  moment  they  are  born. 

57 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

Somehow  or  other  they  work  their  way  up  through  the  sand  and 
run  off  at  once  to  the  shelter  of  the  forest.  The  young  Mound- 
Builder,  whatever  the  species,  is  one  of  the  most  precocious  of 
bird  children. 

The  actual  manner  in  which  the  chick  makes  its  way  to  the 
surface  has  been  observed  in  the  case  of  the  Brush-Turkey 
(Talegallus  lathami\  another  of  the  Mound-birds.  Mr.  Barnard, 
of  Coomooboolaroo,  a  Queensland  squatter  and  the  head  of  a 
family  of  naturalists,  buried  an  egg  and  allowed  it  to  incubate 
in  a  heap  of  manure.  A  few  days  later  he  went  to  inspect  it, 
and  on  carefully  removing  the  covering  he  found  a  little  bird 
within  a  few  inches  of  the  surface,  lying  on  its  back  and  trying 
to  work  its  way  out  by  means  of  its  feet.  His  sons  also  on 
several  occasions  discovered  young  Brush-Turkeys  in  the  same 
posture,  when  they  were  digging  for  eggs.  This  species  is  one 
of  the  largest  of  the  Mound-Builders,  being  nearly  the  size  of  an 
ordinary  Turkey-hen.  Its  plumage  is  sooty-brown  in  colour, 
but  the  skin  of  the  neck  is  pinkish-red  and  the  bird  possesses  a 
large,  bright  yellow  wattle  just  above  the  breast.  The  incu- 
bators made  by  the  Brush-Turkeys  are  on  quite  a  different 
principle  from  those  of  the  Maleos. 

Instead  of  merely  digging  holes  and  burying  their  eggs  where 
they  will  be  hatched  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  the  Brush-Turkeys 
construct  huge  mounds  of  leaves  and  grass  mixed  with  earth, 
and  the  warmth  produced  by  the  vegetable  matter  as  it  fer- 
ments and  decays  enables  the  eggs  to  develop.  If  you  will 
make  a  hole  in  a  heap  of  grass  which  has  been  piled  up  in  warm 
weather  while  still  wet — cuttings  from  a  lawn-mower,  for 
instance — and  left  to  rot,  you  will  be  able  to  observe  for  your- 
self how  much  heat  is  produced  by  the  process  of  decay.  This 
species  of  Brush-Turkey  spends  several  weeks  in  collecting  the 
material  for  its  mound,  and  by  the  time  the  eggs  are  laid  it  has 
built  a  pyramid  which  is  often  large  enough  to  make  many  cart- 
loads. Of  course  one  bird  cannot  do  all  this  ;  at  least  a  pair  of 
them  join  forces  to  make  one  of  the  smaller  heaps,  and  the 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

larger  mounds  may  be  the  result  of  the  united  labours  of  several 
pairs.  Besides  this,  the  birds  return  to  the  same  spot  season 
after  season,  and  add  fresh  material  every  year,  so  the  heap  goes 
on  increasing  in  size. 

Gould,  that  famous  old  writer  about  Australian  birds,  says : 
"The  materials  composing  these  mounds  are  accumulated  by 
the  bird  grasping  a  quantity  in  its  foot  and  throwing  it  back- 
wards to  one  common  centre,  the  surface  of  the  ground  for  a 
considerable  distance  being  so  completely  scratched  over  that 
scarcely  a  leaf  or  a  blade  of  grass  is  left.  The  mound  being  com- 
pleted, and  time  allowed  for  a  sufficient  amount  of  heat  to  be 
engendered,  the  eggs  are  deposited  in  a  circle  at  the  distance 
of  nine  or  twelve  inches  from  each  other,  and  buried  more 
than  an  arm^s  depth,  with  the  large  end  upwards ;  they  are 
covered  up  as  they  are  laid,  and  allowed  to  remain  until 
hatched.  I  have  been  credibly  informed,  both  by  natives 
and  settlers  living  near  their  haunts,  that  it  is  not  an  unusual 
event  to  obtain  half  a  bushel  of  eggs  at  one  time  from  a  single 
mound.  .  .  .  Some  of  the  natives  state  that  the  females  are 
constantly  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  mound  about  the 
time  the  young  are  likely  to  be  hatched,  and  frequently  un- 
cover and  cover  them  up  again,  apparently  for  the  purpose 
of  assisting  those  that  may  have  appeared ;  while  others  have 
informed  me  that  the  eggs  are  merely  deposited,  and  the 
young  allowed  to  force  their  way  unassisted. 

"One  point  has  been  clearly  ascertained,  namely,  that  the 
young  from  the  hour  they  are  hatched  are  clothed  with 
feathers,  and  have  their  wings  sufficiently  developed  to  enable 
them  to  lly  on  to  the  branches  of  trees,  should  they  need  to  do 
so  to  escape  from  danger ;  they  are  equally  nimble  on  their 
legs ;  in  fact,  as  a  moth  emerges  from  its  chrysalis,  dries  its 
wings,  and  flies  away,  so  the  youthful  Talegallus,  when  it 
leaves  the  egg,  is  sufficiently  perfect  to  be  able  to  act  indepen- 
dently and  procure  its  own  food." 

These  birds  have  on  several  occasions  made  their  mounds  at 

59 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

the  '  Zoo,'  and  the  eggs  have  been  successfully  hatched.  It 
was  there  noticed  that  an  opening  was  always  preserved  in  the 
centre  of  the  circle  of  eggs,  probably  to  prevent  the  danger  of 
a  sudden  increase  of  heat  either  from  the  action  of  the  sun  or 
from  too  rapid  fermentation  of  the  decaying  vegetable  matter 
in  the  mound.  The  male  bird  constantly  attended  to  the 
incubator,  and  on  hot  days  cooled  the  eggs  by  almost  uncover- 
ing them  two  or  three  times  between  morning  and  evening. 

The  young  birds  remained  in  the  mound  for  at  least  twelve 
hours  without  making  any  effort  to  escape,  but  on  the  second 
day  they  came  out  and  ran  about  the  pen  for  some  time.  They 
went  to  bed  again  early  in  the  afternoon,  however,  and  were 
carefully  covered  up  for  the  night  by  their  father.  On  the 
third  day  they  could  fly  well.  It  does  not  of  course  follow 
that  the  birds  behave  in  the  same  way  in  their  natural  condition 
as  they  do  in  captivity,  where  they  are  imprisoned  in  a  pen  and 
so  compelled  to  remain  constantly  beside  their  mound. 

At  the  'Zoo'  the  male  Brush-Turkey  took  a  very  active  part  in 
constructing  the  mound,  and  perhaps  he  always  does  so,  though 
the  evidence  on  this  point  is  rather  conflicting.  If  he  does  not, 
there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  he  at  least  acts  as  foreman  of  the 
works.  At  the  station  of  a  squatter  in  Queensland  there  was  a 
tame  cock  Talegallus  which  lived  with  the  farmyard  Hens.  He 
was  in  the  habit  of  driving  his  companions  together  into  a  little 
grove  of  trees  near  the  house,  and  the  owner  of  the  station 
was  convinced  that  he  was  trying  to  compel  them  to  build  a 
mound.  The  Hens,  however,  did  not  understand  that  kind  of 
nest,  and  they  seized  every  opportunity  to  escape  from  their 
taskmaster,  but  the  Talegallus  always  chased  them  back  again, 
until  at  last  his  insistence  became  so  troublesome  that  he  had 
to  be  shot. 

A  remarkable  feature  of  the  Mound-Builders  is  the  great 
size  and  strength  of  their  feet.  This  is  not  so  noticeable  in  the 
Maleo  as  in  other  species ;  but  then  the  Maleo  does  not  make 
a  true  mound,  but,  as  we  have  seen,  merely  digs  a  hole  in 

60 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

which  to  bury  each  egg  as  it  is  laid.  Yet  even  in  this  bird  the 
claws,  though  short  and  straight,  form  a  broad  and  powerful 
foot ;  they  are  strongly  webbed  at  the  base,  and  this  feature, 
combined  with  the  length  of  the  leg.  helps  to  produce  an  ad- 
mirable instrument  for  scratching.  The  birds  which  make 
true  mounds,  however,  must  be  capable  of  more  than  mere 
scratching;  in  order  to  pile  up  these  great  structures  they 
need  a  foot  which  can  actually  take  hold  of  the  material  and 
fling  it  to  a  distance.  So  we  find  that  the  Brush-Turkeys  have 
claws  which  are  long  and  curved.  The  foot  reaches  its  greatest 
development,  however,  in  the  Megapodes — a  name  which 
would  at  once  lead  you  to  expect  a  foot  of  more  than  common 
size. 

All  the  Mound-Builders  belong  to  the  family  of  Megapodes, 
but  the  true  Megapodes — the  Megapodii — form  a  little  group, 
a  genus,  apart  from  the  Brush-Turkeys  (Talegalli)  and  the 
Maleo-bird  (Megacephalori).  They  have  the  most  strongly 
developed  '  scratching '  organs  to  be  met  with  in  the  whole  of 
the  bird  world,  and  they  know  how  to  make  good  use  of  them. 
The  birds  themselves  are  about  the  size  of  small  Hens,  with  very 
short  tails,  and  though  many  of  them  have  a  crested  head, 
their  plumage  is  on  the  whole  of  a  very  dull  and  sober  hue. 
Some  of  them  construct  immense  mounds ;  the  Australian 
Megapode  (Megapodlus  tumulus),  for  instance,  piles  up  material 
until  it  produces  a  hillock  which  not  uncommonly  measures  as 
much  as  sixty  feet  in  circumference,  and  sometimes  a  great  deal 
more — a  tremendous  achievement  for  a  bird.  It  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  one  bird,  or  pair  of  birds,  accomplishes  such  a 
gigantic  labour  in  a  single  season  ;  as  in  the  case  of  the  Brush- 
Turkeys,  the  Megapodes  repair  year  by  year  to  the  same  spot 
to  deposit  their  eggs,  and  several  pairs  contribute  to  the  build- 
ing of  the  larger  mounds  ;  but  even  allowing  for  these  circum- 
stances, we  must  still  be  astonished  at  their  extraordinary 
dimensions.  Perhaps  we  shall  get  a  better  idea  of  their  size 
from  a  remark  of  Macgillivray's :  he  tells  us  that  some  very 

6| 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

ancient  mounds  have  trees  growing  upon  them,  and  he  observed 
that  in  one  instance  the  tree  had  a  trunk  which  was  a  foot  in 
diameter !  All  this  sounds  like  a  story  from  Gulliver's  travels  in 
the  country  of  the  Brobdingnagians — all  except  the  very  modest 
size  of  the  bird  itself,  which  only  makes  the  story  more  wonder- 
ful still. 

This  Megapode  is  not  at  all  particular  about  the  nature  of 
its  building  material,  which  varies  according  to  the  situation. 
The  mounds  are  almost  always  near  the  edge  of  water.  Many  of 
them  are  found  on  the  seashore  and  are  composed  of  sand  and 
shell  heaped  together  in  irregular  masses,  so  that  anybody  who 
was  not  acquainted  with  their  nature  might  suppose  that  they 
had  been  piled  up  by  a  heavy  sea. 

In  such  mounds  there  is  nothing  to  develop  heat,  and  the 
hatching  of  the  eggs  depends  entirely  on  the  warmth  which  they 
obtain  from  the  sun.  Others  are  found  in  neighbouring 
thickets  or  about  the  banks  of  creeks,  and  contain,  as  we  might 
expect  in  these  situations,  fragments  of  decaying  wood  mixed 
with  vegetable  mould,  the  whole  forming  a  cone-shaped  mass 
which  rather  reminds  one  of  a  tiny  volcano,  especially  when  a 
crater-like  hole  has  been  dug  in  the  summit  by  the  birds  when 
they  come  to  deposit  their  eggs — or  by  the  natives  who  visit  the 
spot  to  rob  them.  There  is  a  picture  of  one  of  these  '  nests '  in 
The  Romance  of  Animal  Arts  and  Crafts  which  shows  a 
native  armed  with  a  sharp  stick  in  readiness  to  begin  digging 
out  a  supply  of  eggs.  In  the  Solomon  Islands  the  eggs  of 
Brenchley^s  Megapode  (M.  brenchleyi)  are  very  highly  appreciated 
as  an  article  of  food.  Mr.  C.  M.  Woodford  saw  hundreds  of 
these  birds  scratching  out  their  holes  in  the  warm  sand  when 
he  landed  at  Savo,  and  they  were  so  tame  that  they  took  very 
little  notice  of  him.  In  this  island,  indeed,  they  become  almost 
domesticated,  and  quietly  go  about  their  business  of  digging 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  native  who  is  similarly  engaged  with 
the  intention  of  getting  possession  of  their  eggs.  They  are  so 
numerous  here  that  thousands  of  birds  congregrate  at  the  same 

62 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

place  and  form  great  laying-yards  which  often  extend  over 
several  acres.  These  are  open,  sandy  spaces  on  which  no  shrubs 
or  undergrowth  can  obtain  a  hold,  chiefly  because  the  ground  is 
continually  being  dug  over  by  the  birds.  I  think  we  must 
regard  these  clearings  as  the  largest  of  all  the  bird  'incu- 
bators.' 

The  most  scientifically  constructed  incubator,  however,  is 
that  made  by  the  Ocellated  Megapode  (Lipoa  ocellata)  of 
Australia,  but  as  there  is  a  full  account  of  it  in  another  volume 
of  this  series,  and  also  a  picture,  we  will  here  describe  it  quite 
briefly.  The  way  this  bird  makes  its  incubator  is  by  first 
scratching  a  hollow  in  the  ground  and  then  building  in  it  a 
cup-like  mass  of  leaves,  dead  grass,  and  similar  material.  The 
whole  is  buried  under  a  heap  of  sand,  and  the  decaying  vege- 
table matter  soon  begins  to  warm  up  the  incubator.  Seven  or 
eight  eggs  are  then  laid  in  the  sand  in  a  circle,  just  inside  the 
rim  of  the  cup — which  we  may,  perhaps,  call  the  heating 
apparatus  of  the  incubator — a  hole  being  dug  by  the  birds  for 
this  purpose  on  each  occasion  when  an  egg  is  deposited,  and 
then  carefully  filled  up  again  with  sand.  It  is  curious  to  note 
that  here  again  the  eggs  are  not  placed  on  their  side  like  those 
of  other  birds,  but  in  an  upright  position  with  the  smaller  end 
downwards.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  why  this  is  so. 
We  know  that  such  eggs  as  those  of  a  Plover  are  always  placed 
in  the  nest  with  the  pointed  end  turned  towards  the  centre 
because  in  that  position  they  fit  more  closely  together,  and 
occupy  less  space  than  they  would  do  if  arranged  in  any  other 
way,  and  are  therefore  more  effectively  covered  by  the  sitting 
bird ;  but  nobody,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  has  been  able  to 
explain  the  peculiar  position  of  the  Mound-birds1  eggs. 

Mound-birds1  eggs  are  often  buried  at  a  great  depth.  Those 
of  the  Australian  Brush-Turkey  are  found  more  than  an  arm's 
length  below  the  surface,  and  the  Australian  Megapodes1  were 
taken  by  Gilbert  from  a  depth  of  six  feet  in  the  mound.  The 
Brush-Turkey,  however,  does  not  dig  straight  downwards,  but 

63 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

in  a  sloping  direction  towards  the  edge  of  the  hillock,  so  that 
although  the  eggs  are  so  far  from  the  top,  where  the  hole  is 
always  begun  when  the  bird  visits  its  incubator  in  order  to  lay, 
they  might  really  be  not  more  than  two  or  three  feet  from  the 
surface.  But  even  if  the  young  bird  were  to  take  the  shortest 
way  out  of  the  mound,  it  would  still  have  a  great  deal  of  burrow- 
ing to  do,  and  it  is  surprising  that  it  should  ever  be  able  to 
escape  at  all  without  assistance.  Escape  it  does,  however, 
though  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  it  sometimes  remains 
buried  a  long  time  after  leaving  the  egg.  Some  of  the  little 
birds  which  have  been  dug  out  are  supposed  to  have  been  quite 
three  weeks  old  when  they  were  found ;  perhaps  that  is  a  mis- 
taken estimate,  but  there  seems  no  doubt  whatever  that  many 
spend  several  days,  at  least,  underground.  One  would  expect 
them  to  die  of  starvation  under  such  conditions,  but  on  inquiry 
we  find  that  occasionally,  at  all  events,  there  is  a  supply  of  food 
conveniently  at  hand  which  may  serve  their  needs  during  their 
imprisonment.  When  Gilbert  first  examined  the  mounds  of  the 
Ocellated  Megapode  he  noticed  that  they  contained  large  num- 
bers of  termites — the  so-called  'white  ants' — which  had  even 
made  their  little  covered  galleries  upon  the  eggs  themselves ;  so 
that  here  there  was  plenty  of  tender  food  ready  for  the  chick 
as  soon  as  it  was  hatched. 

A  young  Megapode  is  not  a  naked,  helpless  being  like  many 
little  birds  when  they  are  first  hatched ;  it  is  not,  like  an 
ordinary  domestic  chick,  merely  clothed  in  down.  It  is  a 
powerful  youngster  with  strong  limbs  which  are  already  cap- 
able of  vigorous  scratching ;  it  has  wings  with  fully  developed 
feathers  and  can  fly,  if  not  as  well  as  its  parents,  at  all  events 
well  enough  to  enable  it  to  escape  easily  in  a  very  short  time 
from  its  enemies.  Why  then  does  it  choose  to  remain  so 
long  underground,  in  darkness,  instead  of  making  its  way  as 
quickly  as  possible  to  the  surface  ?  That  is  a  question  which 
has  puzzled  many  naturalists,  and  one  which  we  are  still 
unable  to  answer. 

64 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

Before  leaving  the  fascinating  subject  of  birds'  incubators, 
as  we  have  called  them,  we  may  perhaps  mention  a  very  curious 
instance,  described  by  Dr.  Merriam  in  his  report  on  the  Alaska 
Expedition,  of  the  way  in  which  the  most  tremendous  forces  of 
Nature  may  be  of  assistance  in  such  a  delicate  process  as  the 
hatching  of  an  egg.  We  have  seen  that  the  birds1  incubators 
are  kept  warm  in  various  ways.  In  some  cases  it  is  by  the 
burning  rays  of  the  fierce  tropical  sun  shining  upon  the  dry 
desert  sand,  in  some  it  is  by  the  warming  of  the  surrounding 
earth  by  hot-water  springs,  and  in  some  by  the  heat  produced 
when  masses  of  dead  vegetation,  scraped  together  by  the  birds, 
ferment  and  decay.  But  there  is  yet  another  source  of  heat — 
a  mighty  source  which,  fortunately  for  us,  only  occasionally 
forces  itself  upon  our  notice,  and  which  then  is  too  often  more 
apparently  connected  with  destruction  than  with  the  fostering 
of  life :  the  eternal  furnace  beneath  the  earth's  crust.  A  little 
more  than  a  century  ago  there  appeared  in  the  Behring  Sea, 
amid  thunder,  earthquake  and  steam,  a  volcanic  island  now 
known  as  the  Island  of  Bogoolof.  This  island  had  long  been  a 
favourite  resort  of  countless  multitudes  of  sea-birds  when,  in 
the  year  1883,  a  companion  volcano  was  thrown  up  from  the 
sea. 

The  birds  on  the  older  island,  the  greater  number  of  which 
were  Murres,  began  to  occupy  the  new  land  as  soon  as  it  was 
cool  enough  to  afford  a  footing,  and  when  Dr.  Merriam  first 
visited  the  island,  eight  years  after  its  appearance  above  the 
waters,  he  found  vast  hordes  in  possession,  standing  by  thou- 
sands on  projecting  points  and  ledges  wherever  the  rocks  were 
not  too  hot,  and  nesting  there.  No  doubt  the  warmth  of  the 
rocks  assisted  the  incubation  of  the  eggs,  but  whether  the  birds 
took  advantage  of  it  to  prolong  their  excursions  on  business 
and  pleasure  was  unfortunately  not  ascertained.  It  seemed 
strange  that  the  Murres  should  have  chosen  to  make  their 
homes  in  such  a  situation,  for  the  sulphur  fumes  and  hot  steam 
were  almost  suffocating.  The  year  after  the  volcano  was 
S  65 


BIRDS'  INCUBATORS 

formed,  many  birds  were  observed  to  be  killed  instantly  if  they 
chanced  to  fly  into  the  cloud  of  steam  and  smoke  which  hung 
over  it,  and  even  when  Dr.  Merriam  called  at  the  island  he 
found  lying  on  the  rocks  many  dead  birds  which  had  evidently 
perished  from  the  same  cause — the  victims,  as  in  the  case  of  so 
many  human  pioneers,  of  their  own  enterprise. 


CHAPTER  IV 
FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

Infant-food  and  why  it  is  necessary— Finches— Change  of  diet  and  special 
preparation  of  food  — «  Pigeon's  milk ' —  Insect-eaters  —  Swallows  and 
Swifts— A  ball  of  flies— Reed- Warblers— Industry  of  parents— A  working 
day  of  sixteen  hours — Feeding  the  young  in  mid-air— Methods  of  giving 
food— An  interesting  experiment— Birds-of-Prey— Larders— Fish-eaters 
— Fish  soup— Perverted  instinct  of  domesticated  birds. 

WE  are  aware  that  some  young  birds,  such  as  Partridge 
chicks,  are  able  to  pick  up  their  own  food  very  soon 
after  they  leave  the  egg ;  all  that  their  parents  have 
to  do  is  to  take  them  where  food  is  to  be  found  and,  just 
at  first,  to  place  it  in  front  of  them  and  move  it  about  in  order 
to  attract  their  attention :  the  rest  they  can  do  for  themselves. 
Many  little  birds,  however,  are  born  quite  helpless,  and  in  the 
early  days,  or  it  may  be  weeks,  of  their  existence  are  entirely 
dependent  on  their  parents,  without  whom  they  would  very 
soon  die  of  hunger,  just  as  surely  as  a  young  mammal  would  die 
if  it  were  not  suckled  by  its  mother. 

We  are  aware  that  the  food  on  which  mammals  live  when 
they  are  grown  up  would  not  be  good  for  them  when  they  are 
quite  young ;  at  that  time  they  need  something  which  does  not 
require  to  be  crushed  and  softened  before  it  is  swallowed  and 
which  is  suited  to  the  powers  of  little  bodies  not  yet  fully 
formed;  and  it  is  just  the  same  with  many  young  birds. 
We  all  know  what  a  sharp,  strong,  and  hard  bill  a  Sparrow  has 
when  he  is  old  enough  to  fly  about  and  pick  up  a  living  in  the 
street  or  farmyard,  to  eat  the  seeds  we  have  just  sown  in 
our  garden,  or  to  rob  the  farmer  of  his  corn.  But  the  bill  of  a 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

baby  Sparrow  which  has  just  escaped  from  the  egg  is  quite 
soft,  and  so  is  his  stomach ;  his  parents,  therefore,  acting 
instinctively  as  if  they  knew  that  seeds  and  berries  and 
hard  bread-crumbs  would  be  injurious,  give  him  nothing  but 
soft  food,  and  for  a  while  he  lives  on  worms  and  grubs  and 
other  delicacies.  Sometimes  the  parents  themselves  take  a 
fancy  to  a  change  of  diet,  and  many  hard-billed,  seed-eating 
birds  such  as  the  Chaffinch  become  insect-eaters  while  they  have 
a  young  family  to  provide  for. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  watch  the  old  birds  when  they  visit 
the  nest  to  feed  their  chicks,  but  it  is  often  by  no  means 
an  easy  matter  to  do  so.  Frequently  it  is  quite  impossible, 
owing  to  the  situation  of  the  nest,  to  see  at  all  what  is  going  on 
there,  and  even  in  favourable  circumstances  it  is  often  necessary 
to  use  a  field-glass  in  order  to  get  a  good  view.  But  if  you  are 
not  discouraged  by  difficulties  at  first  you  will  soon  find  that  it 
is  well  worth  while  to  take  a  little  trouble. 

On  returning  to  the  nest,  some  birds  appear  to  have  brought 
nothing  at  all  back  with  them,  but  if  we  watch  them  closely  we 
shall  see  that  they  presently  begin  to  produce,  one  after 
another,  caterpillars  which  are  carried  hidden  away  at  the  back 
of  their  throat.  The  Bullfinch,  which  is  well  known  as  a  cage- 
bird — though  less  so  now  than  formerly,  I  am  inclined  to  think 
— and  with  which  many  of  us  are  acquainted  as  an  inhabitant 
of  copses  and  bushy  commons,  has  this  habit. 

Another  way  in  which  some  of  the  seed-eating  birds,  such 
as  the  common  Linnet,  provide  food  adapted  to  the  needs  of 
their  chicks,  is  by  first  softening  the  hard  grain  or  seed  in 
their  own  crops  and  thus  producing  what  we  may  perhaps 
compare  to  a  'patent  food  for  infants.'  But  a  far  more 
elaborate  kind  of  infant-food  is  manufactured  by  those  very 
dissimilar  birds,  Pigeons  and  Parrots.  Different  as  they  are 
in  most  respects,  these  birds  resemble  each  other  in  so  far  as 
they  are  both  strictly  vegetarians,  they  both  have  particularly 
helpless  babies,  for  whom  they  both  produce  this  peculiar  food. 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

It  is  a  whitish,  half-solid,  half-liquid  material,  rather  like 
curdled  milk  in  appearance,  and  on  that  account  in  the  case  of 
the  Pigeon  it  has  been  called  'Pigeon's  milk.'  During  in- 
cubation the  lining  of  the  bird's  crop  becomes  thickened,  and 
it  is  here  that  the  '  milk '  is  produced  in  flaky  curds.  Just 
at  first  the  young  Pigeon  is  given  no  other  kind  of  nourish- 
ment, but  when  it  is  a  few  days  old  a  little  partially  digested 
food  is  mixed  with  the  '  milk.'  Then,  as  the  young  birds 
become  bigger  and  stronger,  the  proportion  of  ordinary  food 
is  increased,  so  that  by  the  time  they  are  about  a  week  or  nine 
days  old  they  are  weaned  from  the  '  milk '  and  are  being  fed 
entirely  on  ordinary  food,  which  is  still,  however,  softened  for 
them  by  their  parents.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  in  the  early 
days  the  old  birds  are  able  to  force  the  '  milk '  from  the  crop 
without  any  mixture  of  their  own  food,  although  later  on  both 
are  mingled  together. 

The  way  in  which  a  Pigeon  gives  food  to  its  young  is  well 
known.  It  takes  the  bill  of  the  squab  (as  a  baby  Pigeon  is 
called)  in  its  own  and  pumps  up  the  soft  food  with  a  curious 
action  familiar  to  all  who  have  kept  these  birds  as  pets.  The 
beak  of  a  young  Pigeon  is  well  adapted  for  this  kind  of  feed- 
ing, for  it  is  not  only  soft  and  fleshy,  but  much  thicker  and 
larger  in  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  body  than  in  after  life. 
At  first,  indeed,  it  looks  immense,  but  gradually,  as  the  time 
approaches  for  the  young  bird  to  take  to  solid  food  and  provide 
for  itself,  it  shrinks  and  hardens. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  both  Parrots  and  Pigeons  often 
show  their  affection  for  their  mate  by  feeding  her  in  the  same 
manner.  Parrots,  indeed,  as  well  as  their  near  relations  the 
Macaws  and  Cockatoos,  sometimes  go  further,  and  produce 
food  from  their  crop  merely  because  they  are  very  fond  of  the 
person  who  feeds  them — an  attention  which  is  not  always 
appreciated ! 

The  Blue-bellied  Parrakeet  (Psittacus  cyanogaster),  as  well 
as  some  others  of  the  family,  constantly  feeds  his  mate  while 

-69 


FEEDING  THE   CHICKS 

she  is  brooding,  in  the  same  way  as  the  young.  A  pair  of 
these  birds  observed  by  Levaillant  continued  for  half  a  year  to 
feed  their  two  young  ones,  though  the  latter  had  left  the  nest 
when  three  weeks  old — which,  for  Parrots,  is  very  early.  He 
states  that  it  was  a  very  interesting  and  beautiful  sight  to 
watch  them,  for  the  young  would  frequently  be  seated  on  a 
branch  on  the  further  side  of  their  mother,  and  the  male 
bird,  being  unable  to  reach  quite  so  far,  presented  the  food 
first  to  his  partner,  who  immediately  passed  it  on  to  the 
young. 

Let  us  now  take  leave  of  the  vegetarians  amongst  birds  and 
turn  to  those  whose  ordinary  diet  consists  of  insects.  Of  these, 
the  most  familiar  are  probably  Swallows  and  Swifts — not,  we 
may  remark  in  passing,  coupled  together  here  because  they  are 
closely  related  to  one  another,  as  they  are  so  commonly  and 
erroneously  supposed  to  be,  but  merely  on  account  of  the 
similarity  of  their  habits.  Who  has  not  watched  these  grace- 
ful birds  on  a  summer  evening  skimming  in  long,  beautiful 
curves  through  the  air,  sometimes  high  above  our  heads,  some- 
times, in  the  case  of  Swallows,  quite  close  to  the  ground,  in 
rapid,  untiring  flight  ?  You  may  even  have  noticed  the  sharp 
little  sound  made  by  the  snapping  of  their  bills  as,  without  the 
slightest  interruption  of  their  progress  or  slackening  of  speed, 
they  capture  a  gnat  or  other  minute  insect — just  what  it  is 
that  they  catch  we  can  rarely  tell,  for  though  it  is  distinct 
enough  to  the  birds'  keen  sight,  to  us  it  is  invisible. 

We  will  in  imagination  accompany  one  of  these  birds  to  the 
nest  where  a  brood  of  hungry  youngsters  is  awaiting  its  return. 
Suppose  it  is  the  Swift  that  we  visit.  That  is  much  easier  in 
imagination  than  in  reality,  for  Swifts  often  make  their  nest 
in  high  towers,  though  occasionally  they  are  less  aspiring  and 
are  content  to  establish  a  home  under  a  roof  at  no  great  height 
from  the  ground,  as  they  did  at  my  old  school.  The  brood  is  a 
small  one  (two  eggs  being  the  usual  number,  though  occasion- 
ally three  are  laid),  but  the  old  bird  has  been  absent  from  the 

70 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

nest  quite  a  long  time,  perhaps  for  a  whole  hour,  so  the  chicks 
are  very  hungry  ;  what  has  he  brought  them  for  supper  ?  As 
he  creeps  in  at  the  narrow  opening  under  the  eaves  it  is  not 
apparent  that  he  has  brought  anything  at  all,  but  there  is  a 
curious  swelling  under  his  chin  which  certainly  looks  as  though 
he  may  perhaps  have  something  hidden  in  his  mouth.  And  so 
he  has,  for  presently  he  opens  his  widely  gaping  bill  and  pro- 
duces a  round  black  object  about  the  size  of  a  boy's  marble. 
What  can  it  be  ? 

I  recollect,  when  I  was  a  boy,  catching  a  Swift  which  flew 
one  evening  through  the  open  window  of  the  schoolroom  and 
was  unable  to  find  its  way  out  again — the  window  having  been 
promptly  closed  as  soon  as  it  appeared.  And  I  remember  how 
puzzled  I  was  by  the  pouch-like  swelling  under  its  bill,  until  in 
its  struggles  the  bird  ejected  from  its  mouth  a  huge  pellet  such 
as  I  have  described,  which,  to  my  astonishment,  I  found  to  be 
composed  of  scores  of  small  black  flies  all  glued  together  in  a 
solid  mass.  On  the  same  occasion,  before  liberating  the  captive, 
I  learnt  for  the  first  time  that  Swifts  in  their  turn  are  perse- 
cuted by  flies — horrible,  wingless  flies  which  infest  their  bodies, 
comfortably  hidden  away  under  the  feathers,  amongst  which 
they  glide  with  surprising  rapidity  if  disturbed ;  and  I  still 
vividly  recall  my  feeling  of  disgust  on  making  this  discovery  and 
my  pity  for  the  victim  of  such  loathsome  parasites,  which 
appeared  of  monstrous  size  to  live  on  so  small  a  bird.  This, 
however,  is  a  digression,  and  we  must  return  to  the  subject  of 
feeding  the  young. 

Swifts,  then,  take  to  the  nest  a  large  number  of  flies  at  once, 
all  stuck  together  in  the  form  of  a  pellet  or  ball  which  is 
carried  under  the  tongue.  They  therefore  feed  their  chicks  at 
comparatively  long  intervals,  except  just  after  they  are  hatched. 
Swallows  and  Martins,  on  the  other  hand,  are  continually  feed- 
ing their  families  (which  are  more  numerous  than  those  of  the 
Swifts)  and  may  be  seen  returning  to  the  nest  every  two  or 
three  minutes.  In  this  they  resemble  the  greater  number  of 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

insectivorous  birds,  whose  industry  in  supplying  the  needs  of 
their  young  is  almost  incredible. 

On  the  opposite  page  you  will  see  a  charming  illustration  of 
a  pair  of  Reed- Warblers  clinging  to  the  reeds  over  their  nest  and 
looking  down  upon  their  family  which  they  have  just  been  feed- 
ing. It  is  from  a  photograph  of  the  living  birds,  taken  in  a  reed- 
bed  beside  an  old  fish-pond  a  few  miles  from  Cambridge.  Photo- 
graphing birds  in  their  own  haunts  is  work  which  requires  much 
time,  and  patience  too,  but  it  has  the  advantage  of  affording 
ample  opportunities  of  observing  their  habits.  Mr.  Farren, 
who  took  this  particular  photograph,  was  watching  the  Reed- 
Warblers  for  an  hour  and  three-quarters,  and  during  that  period 
they  visited  the  nest  at  least  thirty-six  times,  bringing  with 
them  caddis-flies,  little  Cambridge-blue  dragon-flies,  and  other 
insects.  That  works  out  at  about  twenty  visits  in  an  hour ; 
and  on  almost  every  occasion  the  birds  brought  food  with  them. 
The  feeding  is  continued  throughout  the  day,  from  sunrise  to 
dusk — a  summer-day-long  feast  of  hundreds  of  courses !  Imagine 
the  energy  and  industry  of  the  little  birds  which  provide  such 
a  meal. 

We  do  not  merely  suppose  that  the  birds  never  rest  from 
their  labour  of  love  all  through  the  day,  for  patient  naturalists 
have  often  kept  a  nest  under  observation  from  early  morning 
until  the  time  of  roosting,  and  have  made  a  note  of  every  occa- 
sion when  the  parents  brought  food.  In  this  way  Professor 
Weed  of  Durham,  New  Hampshire,  found  that  a  pair  of  Chip- 
ping-Sparrows — American  birds  much  like  our  Sparrows  in 
general  appearance,  but  considerably  smaller,  and  familiarly 
known  as  'Chippys1 — between  five  minutes  to  four  in  the 
morning  and  half-past  seven  at  night  made  almost  two  hundred 
visits  to  the  nest,  and  during  this  busy  day  they  brought  food 
• — soft-bodied  caterpillars,  crickets,  crane-flies,  and  other  insects 
— on  nearly  every  occasion,  though  sometimes  they  returned 
with  what  appeared  to  be  grit  for  the  grinding  of  the  food. 
There  were  no  long  intervals  when  the  birds  were  not  at  work ; 

72 


DEVOTED  PARENTS  :  REED-WARBLERS  AT  HOME 

Reed-Warblers  build  their  nest  over  the  water,  weaving  the  walls  securely  round  the 
supporting  reed-stems.  When  the  young  are  hatched  the  birds  spend  the  whole  of  the 
long  summer  day  in  feeding  them,  returning  every  two  or  three  minutes  with  their  bills  full 
of  insects. 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

the  longest  was  twenty-seven  minutes,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
day  as  many  as  twenty-one  visits  were  made  in  the  hour. 

But  to  return  a  moment  to  our  Reed -Warblers.  Mr.  Farren 
writes :  "  It  was  very  interesting  to  watch  the  olive-plumaged 
little  birds  working  among  the  reed-stems;  flitting  from  reed  to 
reed,  they  would  disappear  through  the  jungle  behind  the  nest, 
returning  in  two  or  three  minutes  with  their  bills  full  of  insects 
and,  clinging  sideways  on  the  upright  reeds  above  the  nest, 
reach  down  and  deliver  to  the  young  the  food  they  had  brought. 
While  attending  to  the  nest  each  parent  had  its  favourite  perch; 
the  female,  which  was  the  more  industrious  of  the  two,  always 
settled  on  the  reeds  on  the  left  of  the  nest,  while  the  male  kept 
to  the  right.  The  male  also  perched  lower  down  than  did 
the  female ;  in  fact,  at  times  the  latter  bird  clung  to  the  reed 
so  high  above  the  nest  that  she  could  only  reach  the  open 
mouths  of  the  young  ones  by  hanging  in  a  position  which  may 
very  well  be  described  as  'upside  down."1  She  could  apparently 
swing  herself  into  almost  any  attitude  without  changing  the 
position  of  her  feet. 

The  moment  when  a  bird  has  just  given  food  to  the  young  is 
with  nearly  all  small  kinds  the  surest  time  to  get  a  good  photo- 
graph, because  it  then  usually  remains  for  a  second  or  two 
quite  still,  watching  the  chicks. 

With  regard  to  the  Swallow,  there  is  a  remarkable  circum- 
stance in  connection  with  the  manner  in  which  it  gives  food  to 
its  young  which  we  have  so  far  omitted  to  mention.  When  the 
fledglings  are  old  enough  to  leave  the  nest  they  are  fed  for  a 
day  or  so  on  the  chimney-top,  after  which  they  are  taken  a 
little  further  afield,  often  to  a  dead  branch  of  a  tree,  where 
they  sit  in  a  row  and  are  waited  on  by  their  parents.  Their 
education  is  progressing,  but  they  are  still  unable  to  capture 
their  own  food,  although  by  this  time  they  will  have  learnt  to 
fly,  and  it  is  at  this  stage  in  their  upbringing  that  we  may  see 
the  pretty  act  so  well  described  by  Gilbert  White — the  young 
being  fed  by  their  parents  while  on  the  wing.  "They  play 

73 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

about  near  the  place  where  the  dams  are  hawking  for  flies ;  and 
when  a  mouthful  is  collected,  at  a  certain  signal  given,  the  dam 
and  the  nestling  advance,  rising  towards  each  other,  and  meet- 
ing at  an  angle ;  the  young  one  all  the  while  uttering  such  a 
little  quick  note  of  gratitude  and  complacency,  that  a  person 
must  have  paid  very  little  regard  to  the  wonders  of  nature  that 
has  not  often  remarked  this  feat." 

Martins  also  feed  their  young  flying,  but  not  so  commonly  as 
Swallows ;  and  the  action  is  performed  so  swiftly  that  it  usually 
escapes  the  notice  of  any  one  who  is  not  a  very  quick  observer. 

A  few  years  ago,  when  I  was  in  Tangier,  I  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  have  an  opportunity  of  observing  a  pair  of  Wrynecks 
which  were  bringing  up  a  young  family  in  a  hole  in  a  tree,  and 
frequently  saw  them  busily  engaged  at  an  ants'*  nest  taking  in 
supplies  for  the  family.  The  tip  of  the  bird's  tongue  is  very 
horny,  and  it  uses  this  as  an  implement  to  stir  up  the  ants  and 
induce  them  to  sally  forth  to  defend  their  home.  As  they 
appear  the  bird  gathers  them  wholesale  into  its  mouth,  where 
they  are  stuck  together  into  a  ball  by  means  of  the  copious 
viscid  saliva,  exactly  as  in  the  case  of  the  Swift,  and  the  nutri- 
tious cake  is  then  conveyed  to  the  nest  and  dropped,  I  suppose, 
into  the  gaping  mouths  of  the  young  Wrynecks. 

These  birds,  which  are  slightly  larger  than  a  Sparrow,  nest  in 
some  parts  of  England,  where  they  arrive  a  few  days  before  the 
Cuckoo  and  on  that  account  are  occasionally  known  as  'the 
Cuckoo's  mate.'  But  as  the  hollow  trees  in  our  orchards, 
where  they  love  to  make  their  home,  become  fewer,  the  birds 
become  rarer  year  by  year,  and  they  are  now  seen  far  less 
frequently  than  was  the  case  fifty  years  ago.  They  are  called 
Wryneck,  or  in  some  places  <  Snake-bird,'  because  they  have  a 
wonderful  way  of  twisting  and  writhing  their  head  and  neck, 
which  is  especially  noticeable  when  one  of  the  birds  is  caught 
and  held  by  the  feet.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to  capture  them 
while  in  the  nesting-hole,  and  they  would  no  doubt  be  molested 
more  frequently  than  is  actually  the  case  but  for  the  threaten- 

74 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

ing  hiss  with  which  they  greet  an  intruder.  Yet  another  snake- 
like  characteristic  of  these  curious  birds  is  the  rapidity  with 
which  the  tongue  is  darted  out  when  they  are  collecting  insects. 

Amongst  Wrynecks  both  parents  take  a  share  in  feeding  the 
chicks,  but  with  many  species,  such  as  the  Skylark,  the  hen- 
bird  alone  performs  this  duty. 

When  young  Skylarks  are  almost  ready  to  leave  the  nest 
their  mother  feeds  them  about  four  times  in  every  hour.  Her 
return  is  heralded  by  a  gentle  twitter  as  she  hovers  above  them 
for  a  few  moments,  "  like  a  toy-bird  suspended  on  the  end  of  a 
bit  of  elastic,"  as  Mr.  Kearton  happily  describes  her  attitude  at 
this  time.  The  youngsters  answer  the  call  by  shooting  up 
their  heads  and  opening  wide  their  yellow  mouths,  whereupon 
the  mother  alights  and  gives  one  of  them  the  worm  she  holds 
in  her  bill,  after  which,  like  a  conjurer,  she  produces  from 
somewhere  at  the  back  of  her  throat  more  worms  and  feeds  the 
little  ones  in  turn.  The  father's  duty  appears  to  consist  merely 
in  providing  incidental  music  during  and  between  the  courses. 

It  is  easy  to  observe  the  way  in  which  a  brood  of  callow 
nestlings  respond  to  their  parents'  invitation  to  be  fed,  by 
paying  a  visit  to  a  nest  of  young  Thrushes,  Hedge-Sparrows,  or 
other  common  species,  and  imitating  the  sound  made  by  the 
old  birds.  It  need  not  be  a  particularly  good  imitation  ;  the 
young  birds  are  not  fastidious,  and  are  pretty  sure  to  answer 
promptly  by  stretching  their  necks  and  gaping  widely  in  antici- 
pation of  a  meal.  In  many  cases  it  is  possible  to  get  the  same 
result  by  gently  tapping  the  side  of  the  nest  or  the  twig  on 
which  it  is  supported,  producing  a  swaying  or  vibration  such  as 
would  be  caused  by  a  bird  alighting.  This  can  be  repeated 
often,  the  chicks  instinctively  responding  with  a  regularity 
which  is  ludicrously  suggestive  of  the  working  of  a  mechanical 
toy  when  the  spring  is  pressed.  If,  however,  one  of  the  old 
birds  is  anywhere  about,  uttering  the  alarm  note,  you  will 
probably  whistle  or  chirp  or  tap  in  vain,  for  the  youngsters 
will  cower  down  in  the  nest  and  remain  still  until  you  go  away 

75 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

and  they  are  assured  by  their  anxious  parent  that  the  danger  is 
past. 

Most  of  the  insect-eaters  either  drop  the  food  into  the 
mouths  of  their  young  or  place  it  well  back  in  their  throats. 
The  Nightjar,  however,  whose  diet  consists  chiefly  of  moths 
and  cockchafers,  feeds  its  callow  nestlings  from  the  crop  after 
the  manner  of  Pigeons,  but  with  this  difference,  that  whereas  the 
Pigeon  takes  the  bill  of  the  squab  within  its  own,  the  Nightjar 
adopts  the  opposite  plan  and  places  its  own  bill  in  that  of  its 
young.  In  both  cases  there  is  the  same  jerking,  up-and-down 
movement  as  the  food  is  transferred  from  one  to  the  other. 

The  Birds-of-Prey,  on  account  of  the  nature  of  their  food, 
feed  their  chicks  less  frequently  than  the  birds  we  have  hitherto 
mentioned.  They  bring  in  their  supplies  in  bulk,  consequently 
the  young  have  substantial  meals  at  longer  intervals  rather 
than  a  series  of  small  courses  spread  over  the  whole  day. 
Many  of  them  carefully  prepare  the  game  before  giving  it  to 
the  young  birds  to  eat.  In  Montana,  for  example,  it  has  been 
noticed  that  the  Golden  Eagle  always  decapitates  any  small 
animals  which  it  brings  to  the  brood,  but  in  the  case  of 
feathered  prey,  in  which  the  skull  is  not  so  hard  and  unmanage- 
able, the  head  is  left  on.  Hares  are  plucked — a  method  of 
preparing  this  kind  of  game  for  the  table  which  we  usually 
only  associate  with  the  ancient  story  of  the  inexperienced  cook. 
An  Eagle's  larder  is  kept  well  filled,  for  portions  of  dead 
animals  are  nearly  always  to  be  seen  around  the  margins  of  the 
eyrie,  and  the  young  grow  up  literally  4  in  the  midst  of  plenty.' 
Reference  to  the  Eagle's  larder  brings  to  mind  the  curious 
larder  of  the  Red-backed  Shrike  \Lanius  collurio\  one  of  the 
summer  visitors  to  England  and  the  south  of  Scotland,  better 
known  by  its  popular  name  of  'Butcher-bird.'  Its  nest  is 
usually  placed  high  in  a  thorn  bush,  and  on  the  surrounding 
thorns  the  bird  impales  the  prey  which  it  captures.  Though 
considerably  smaller  than  a  Thrush  it  is  very  bold,  and  will 
even  attack  and  kill  other  small  birds,  though  the  greater  part 

76 


THE  BUTCHER-BIRD'S  LARDER 


may 


The  Butcher-bird  impales  its  prey  on  thorns,  and  the  remains  of  many  victims  m 
often  be  seen  on  a  favouiue  thorn-bush.     The  "larder"  represented  in  the  pictu 
contains  a  beetle,  a  lizard,  a  young   Blackbird,   a   Blue  lit  mouse,  and  a  Hedge- 
Sparrow. 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

of  its  food  consists  of  large  insects  which  it  catches,  after  the 
manner  of  a  Flycatcher,  by  making  quick  dashes  from  the  twig 
where  it  sits  perched  and  watchful.  It  kills  even  when  its 
appetite  for  food  is  satisfied,  and  hangs  up  its  victims  for  future 
consumption,  dragging  them  on  to  the  sharp  thorns  with  its 
feet  and  strong  bill,  which  is  hooked  and  notched  like  that  of 
a  Bird-of-Prey.  A  strange  variety  of  game  is  sometimes  col- 
lected in  the  '  larder ' ;  in  one  instance  the  bird  had  hung  up 
a  lizard,  a  dor-beetle,  a  Hedge-Sparrow,  a  young  Blackbird, 
and  a  Blue  Tit.  Small  frogs,  mice,  and  humble-bees  are 
amongst  the  other  animals  occasionally  found  there. 

That  charming  little  bird,  the  Dabchick,  is  remarkably  care- 
ful about  its  children's  diet.  During  the  first  fortnight  of 
their  life  this  consists  mainly  of  fresh-water  shrimps  and  such- 
like delicacies.  The  mother  exercises  careful  supervision  over 
the  meals  ;  if  a  fragment  of  food  appears  to  be  too  solid  for  the 
little  ones,  she  bites  and  crushes  it  in  her  bill  to  make  it  softer 
before  giving  it  to  them ;  if,  having  given  it  to  them,  it  seems 
after  all  rather  too  large  for  them  to  manage,  she  promptly 
takes  it  away  again.  The  Eider-Duck  also  carefully  prepares 
the  nursery  dinner.  Taking  her  brood  of  ducklings  to  a  spot 
where  edible  mussels  cover  the  rocks  at  low-water  mark,  she 
gathers  as  many  as  the  family  meal  requires  and,  choosing  the 
smallest,  breaks  the  shells  and  lays  the  contents  before  her 
children. 

Of  the  fish-eaters  by  far  the  greater  number  bring  home 
the  food  in  their  gullet,  though  the  noblest  of  them  all,  the 
Sea-Eagle,  always  carries  its  prey  in  its  claws,  and  often  brings 
to  its  young  fish  which  are  still  alive.  In  Hungary,  Prince 
Rudolph  saw  a  Sea-Eagle  fiying  home  with  a  fish  in  each  claw  : 
on  arriving  at  the  nest  it  threw  one  of  them  to  its  young,  and 
the  other  it  took  to  a  branch  for  its  own  supper. 

Herons,  Gannets,  Cormorants,  Petrels,  Pelicans,  and  a  host 
of  other  species,  all  carry  the  fish  in  their  gullet,  and  allow  the 
young  to  help  themselves.  Morning  and  evening  the  Heron 

77 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

flies  home  heavily  from  its  fishing  with  laden  crop,  alights  at 
the  top  of  the  tree,  flaps  its  wings  to  recover  its  balance,  and 
descends  to  the  nest.  The  young,  one  after  another,  then  put 
their  beaks  into  their  parent's  and  take  the  food — consisting 
not  only  of  fish,  but  of  frogs,  small  reptiles,  shell- fish,  and  even 
young  water-fowl — to  an  accompaniment  of  hoarse  squeaks. 
The  Brown  Pelicans  also  feed  their  brood  morning  and  evening. 
In  the  case  of  these  birds,  as  in  the  Cormorants  and  others,  the 
head  and  neck  of  the  young  are  thrust  far  down  into  the 
parent's  gullet  in  a  way  that  is  unpleasantly  suggestive  of 
possible  cannibalism  on  the  part  of  the  old  bird !  It  looks  a 
most  uncomfortable  attitude  for  both  parties,  but  they  appear 
to  derive  much  satisfaction  from  the  operation. 

In  these  and  many  other  instances  the  young  are  fed  at  first 
on  food  which  has  already  been  partially  digested,  and  are  only 
gradually  weaned  to  a  more  solid  diet  of  fresh  fish.  The 
Gannet  in  its  earliest  days  is  nourished  on  a  kind  of  fish  soup 
prepared  in  its  parent's  gullet  and  stomach,  and  introduced  a 
little  at  a  time  into  the  young  bird's  throat.  The  Petrels, 
which  have  such  an  unpleasant  habit  of  bombarding  any  one 
who  approaches  them  too  closely  when  they  are  on  the  nest 
with  a  jet  of  evil-smelling  oil,  the  odour  of  which  clings  to 
clothing  for  days  afterwards,  feed  their  young  on  the  same 
unattractive  fluid. 

Even  young  birds  have  been  known  to  submit  to  having  their 
crops  emptied  by  another  nestling.  Audubon  has  a  story  of 
two  young  Darters  or  Snake-birds — the  species  whose  fishing  is 
described  in  another  chapter — which  were  kept  in  a  cage,  and 
relates  that  the  smaller  of  the  two  when  hungry  worried  his 
brother  so  persistently  that  at  last  the  latter  allowed  him  to 
put  his  head  right  down  his  throat  and  steal  the  fish  which  he 
had  previously  swallowed. 

Chicks  that  grow  quickly  have  prodigious  appetites.  The 
experience  of  a  member  of  the  Discovery  Expedition,  who 
attempted  to  bring  home  two  baby  Emperor  Penguins  from  the 

78 


FEEDING  THE  CHICKS 

Antarctic,  is  an  amusing  illustration  of  this.  The  little  birds 
were  very  exacting,  and  made  a  great  hullabaloo  when  they 
considered  that  meal-times  had  arrived.  They  were  fed  at  first 
on  crustaceans  and  afterwards  on  seal-meat,  both  of  which  had 
to  be  chewed  up  for  them  by  their  nurse. 

This  was  no  light  occupation,  for  Captain  Scott  says  that 
from  the  beginning  they  had  to  be  regarded  as  small  tanks,  and 
that  when  they  grew  bigger  they  seemed  to  be  bottomless 
caverns  into  which  any  quantity  of  food  could  be  dropped  with- 
out making  much  appreciable  difference.  After  a  while  they 
began  to  disapprove  of  the  long  interval  between  supper  and 
breakfast,  and  "  used  to  go  off  like  alarm  clocks  "  in  the  middle 
of  the  night.  Their  nurse  had  then  to  get  out  of  his  warm 
bed — we  may  mention  that  he  had  from  the  first  handed  over 
his  sleeping-jacket  to  his  charges  to  protect  them  from  the  cold 
— and  give  them  a  meal :  which  meant  that  he  had  to  chew 
seal-meat  for  them  until  they  were  satisfied,  when  their  little 
heads  would  sink  upon  their  distended  bodies  and  they  would 
sleep  again  until  breakfast-time. 

In  a  former  chapter  I  mentioned  that  Ostrich  eggs  are  often 
found  scattered  about  the  ground  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
nest.  It  is  said  that  when  the  young  are  hatched  these  scat- 
tered eggs  are  made  use  of  by  the  parent  birds  as  a  sort  of 
infant-food  for  their  chicks ;  and  that  may  well  be  so,  for  the 
shells  are  so  thick  that  the  contents  keep  perfectly  fresh  for 
several  weeks. 

Such,  then,  is  the  devotion  of  birds  in  appeasing  the  hunger 
of  their  little  ones.  It  is  only  when  they  have  been  demoralised 
by  domestication  that  they  occasionally  lapse  into  selfish  con- 
duct and  allow  their  own  greed  to  get  the  better  of  parental 
affection.  For  example,  some  years  ago  a  Duck  on  the  Long 
Water  in  Kensington  Gardens  used  to  seize  her  ducklings  by 
the  neck  and  hold  them  under  the  water  until  she  was  herself 
obliged  to  come  to  the  surface  to  breathe,  if  they  ventured  to 
accept  the  crumbs  thrown  to  them  by  a  bystander, 

79 


CHAPTER  V 
DEFENCE   OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

Change  of  character  in  breeding  season— Courage  and  endurance— Braving 
cold,  water,  fire,  famine,  etc. — Intimidation — Strategy:  the  wiles  of  a 
Woodchuck — Attitude  of  an  angry  bird — Animals  attacked  by  nesting 
birds  :  cats,  dogs,  pigs — Birds-of-Prey — Courage  of  Owls — The  redoubt- 
able King-bird — *  Bonxies '  and  bonneting — An  unpleasant  habit — One 
of  Nature's  comedians. 

A1  the  season  of  the  year  when  they  are  chiefly  occupied 
with  family  cares,  birds  not  only  put  on  braver  attire, 
but  change  their  character  in  harmony  with  the  altera- 
tion in  their  plumage.  The  difference  in  the  plumage,  how- 
ever, may  in  some  cases  be  so  slight  as  to  pass  almost 
unnoticed;  but  the  contrast  between  the  behaviour  of  a  bird 
which  has  a  home  to  defend  and  the  same  bird  at  other  times  is 
usually  very  remarkable  indeed.  However  timid  and  spiritless 
it  may  have  been,  however  ready  to  take  to  flight  on  the 
slightest  alarm,  it  becomes  pugnacious,  aggressive,  and  often 
almost  reckless  in  its  courage.  The  Hen  which,  a  few  weeks 
before,  ran  fluttering  and  clucking  across  the  farmyard  pursued 
by  a  puppy,  will  not  only  stand  her  ground  when  she  has  a 
helpless  brood  to  defend,  but  will  fly  in  the  face  of  any  dog 
that  dares  to  come  near  her  precious  charge.  In  many  species 
it  is  the  male  bird  who  shows  most  devotion  to  the  little  ones 
and  he  may  be  no  less  determined  in  defence  of  his  mate  when 
she  is  sitting  on  the  nest — or  perhaps  it  is  the  nest  he  is  think- 
ing of  rather  than  his  partner ;  in  any  case,  the  result  is  the 
same. 

The  way  in  which  birds  protect  their  nurseries  or  little  ones 

80 


DEFENCE   OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

varies  in  different  species ;  threats,  force,  and  strategy  all  play 
their  part,  and  may  all  be  adopted  by  the  same  bird  at  different 
times,  though  usually  we  find  that  each  species  has  its  own  par- 
ticular method  or  combination  of  methods  from  the  practice  of 
which  it  rarely  departs. 

Devotion  to  its  eggs,  mate,  or  young  is  sometimes  so  over- 
whelming that  a  bird  becomes  entirely  oblivious  to  its  own 
safety.  That  famous  naturalist,  Thomas  Edward — whose 
books  you  should  read  if  you  have  not  already  done  so — 
relates  how,  when  crossing  the  Clasmauch  on  his  way  to 
Huntly  after  a  heavy  snowstorm  which  had  compelled  the 
Plovers  and  Wild  Ducks  to  abandon  their  nests,  he  came  upon 
one  of  the  latter  birds  skulking,  as  he  thought,  beside  a  tuft  of 
rushes.  On  approaching,  however,  he  saw  that  she  was  dead, 
and  there,  beneath  her  lifeless  body,  was  a  nest  with  eleven 
eggs,  each  of  which  contained  a  young  bird.  It  was  evident 
that  the  poor  Duck  had  died,  half  suffocated  and  half  frozen, 
in  the  effort  to  protect  her  nest  from  the  heavy  fall  of  snow. 
That  is  an  instance  of  passive  endurance  carried  to  the  utmost 
limit;  for  the  sake  of  their  young  or  mate,  however,  birds 
exhibit  active  daring  in  no  less  a  degree.  We  will  take  one  or 
two  homely  instances  of  this. 

Everybody  knows  that  a  Hen  is  a  most  devoted  mother, 
and  we  shall  have  something  more  to  say  on  this  subject 
presently.  In  the  farmyard  her  devotion  results  occasionally 
in  some  very  curious  situations,  because  not  infrequently  she  is 
given  a  sitting  of  Duck's  eggs  to  brood  over,  and  when  they 
are  hatched  the  habits  of  her  strange  family  are  a  terrible 
puzzle  to  her,  and  the  source  of  much  anxiety.  This  is 
especially  the  case  when  the  whole  brood,  in  spite  of  all  her 
protests  and  her  excited  clucking,  take  to  the  water  and  swim 
beyond  her  reach,  leaving  her  in  a  state  of  comical  alarm  on  the 
edge  of  the  pond.  A  case  is  recorded,  however,  of  a  Hen  whose 
anxiety  so  far  overcame  her  fear  that  she  actually  leapt  into 
the  pond  in  pursuit  of  her  rebellious  foster-children,  and 
F  81 


DEFENCE   OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

managed  to  swim  to  the   other  side — a  distance  of  twenty 
feet. 

Few  birds  are  more  cautious  or  more  knowing  than  old  Rooks 
and  Crows,  and  to  approach  them  openly  within  gunshot,  if  you 
are  carrying  a  gun,  is  almost  impossible — so  difficult,  indeed, 
that  there  is  a  tradition  to  the  effect  that  they  can  smell 
powder!  They  have  at  all  events  learnt  to  distinguish  a  gun 
from  a  stick,  for  while  they  regard  the  latter  with  indifference, 
they  take  care  to  keep  just  beyond  range  of  firearms.  Yet  even 
the  wily  Carrion-Crow  falls  a  victim  to  parental  affection. 
Mr.  Cornish  tells  us  that  in  the  nesting -season  he  used  to 
organise  evening  'drives'  of  Crows  in  order  to  try  to  reduce 
their  numbers  before  their  destructive  tendencies  were  further 
stimulated  by  the  possession  of  ravenous  families.  On  such  an 
occasion,  as  soon  as  a  shot  was  fired,  one  of  the  old  birds  came 
hurrying  home  to  the  nest  to  see  what  was  happening,  and 
immediately  fell  to  the  guns.  A  moment  afterwards  the  other 
bird  was  seen,  in  the  dim  twilight,  to  descend  straight  on  to  the 
eggs,  with  the  same  fatal  result. 

oo    ' 

This  recalls  the  devotion  of  the  Raven — made  famous  by 
Gilbert  Whitens  description — which  had  its  nest  in  Losel's 
wood,  at  Selborne.  We  will  give  the  story  in  his  own  words: 
"  In  the  centre  of  this  grove  there  stood  an  oak,  which,  though 
shapely  and  tall  on  the  whole,  bulged  out  into  a  large  excrescence 
about  the  middle  of  the  stem.  On  this  a  pair  of  ravens  had 
fixed  their  residence  for  such  a  series  of  years,  that  the  oak  was 
distinguished  by  the  title  of  the  Raven-tree.  Many  were  the 
attempts  of  the  neighbouring  youths  to  get  at  this  eyry :  the 
difficulty  whetted  their  inclinations,  and  each  was  ambitious  of 
surmounting  the  arduous  task.  But  when  they  arrived  at  the 
swelling,  it  jutted  out  so  in  their  way,  and  was  so  far  beyond 
their  grasp,  that  the  most  daring  lads  were  awed,  and  acknow- 
ledged the  undertaking  to  be  too  hazardous. 

"  So  the  ravens  built  on,  nest  upon  nest,  in  perfect  security, 
till  the  fatal  day  arrived  in  which  the  wood  was  to  be  levelled. 

82 


DEFENCE  OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

It  was  in  the  month  of  February,  when  those  birds  usually  sit. 
The  saw  was  applied  to  the  butt,  the  wedges  were  inserted  into 
the  opening,  the  woods  echoed  to  the  heavy  blows  of  the  beetle 
or  mallet,  the  tree  nodded  to  its  fall ;  but  still  the  dam  sat  on. 
At  last,  when  it  gave  way,  the  bird  was  flung  from  her  nest ; 
and,  though  her  parental  affection  deserved  a  better  fate,  was 
whipped  down  by  the  twigs,  which  brought  her  dead  to  the 
ground." 

Amongst  wild  birds  it  is  well  known  that  the  larger  kinds 
exhibit  most  shyness  at  the  approach  of  man  ;  contrary  to  what 
one  unacquainted  with  their  habits  might  expect,  the  smaller 
the  bird,  the  greater  its  fearlessness.  If  we  bear  this  in  mind 
it  is  not  very  surprising  to  find  that  some  of  the  smaller  species 
will  endure  a  considerable  amount  of  close  observation  when  on 
the  nest  without  taking  to  flight :  we  might  easily  give  numer- 
ous examples,  but  one  will  suffice.  Many  years  ago,  a  nest 
which  had  been  built  by  a  pair  of  Martins  under  the  eaves  of  a 
house  at  Sutton  was  partially  destroyed,  as  such  nests  often  are, 
by  a  violent  thunderstorm,  and  two  little,  unfledged  birds  fell 
to  the  ground.  The  owner  of  the  house  saw  that  they  were 
apparently  uninjured  and  considered  what  could  be  done  to 
repair  the  damage.  A  ladder  was  brought  to  the  spot  and  a 
piece  of  board  was  nailed  up  under  the  nest,  which  was  then 
mended  very  carefully  with  clay.  A  little  cotton -wool  was 
put  in  to  make  good  the  damaged  lining,  and  the  young  birds 
were  replaced  in  the  nest.  Now  all  these  operations  necessarily 
caused  a  great  deal  of  disturbance,  yet  during  the  whole  time 
the  parent  bird  never  left  the  uninjured  portion  of  the  nest,  but 
remained  sitting  there  quietly  until  the  work  was  finished,  when, 
as  if  overcome  by  thankfulness  for  the  kindness  she  had  received, 
she  flew  around  chirping  cheerfully  for  several  minutes.1 

While  birds  which  have  discovered  the  advantages  that 
houses  and  other  buildings  afford  them  as  a  nesting-site  enjoy 
many  benefits  from  their  association  with  man,  they  have  also 
1  Sterland's  Birds  of  Sherwood  Forest. 


DEFENCE   OF  HOME   AND  FAMILY 

to  encounter  the  dangers  of  civilisation — dangers  to  which  they 
are  not  exposed,  or  at  all  events  but  rarely,  away  from  human 
habitations.  One  of  these  is  the  danger  of  fire,  from  which,  for 
helpless  nestlings,  there  is  no  hope  of  escape.  The  conduct  of 
the  parent  birds  in  such  circumstances  amounts  in  many  re- 
corded instances  to  absolute  self-sacrifice.  We  know  that  in 
Germany  and  elsewhere  the  bird  which  has  most  conspicuously 
attached  itself  to  human  dwellings  is  the  White  Stork,  and 
a  box  or  an  old  cart-wheel  is  frequently  placed  for  its  accom- 
modation on  roof  or  chimney  by  the  householder.  The  bird  is 
regarded  as  the  type  of  a  devoted  parent ;  and  so  indeed  it  is, 
as  the  following  instance  goes  to  prove.  At  Neuendorf,  in 
Prussia,  a  barn  on  which  a  pair  of  Storks  had  for  years  brought 
up  a  family  was  struck  by  lightning.  The  nest,  a  great  heap  of 
sticks  big  enough  to  make  a  good  bonfire,  at  once  burst  into 
flames,  but  instead  of  flying  to  a  place  of  safety,  as  she  might 
have  done,  the  mother  Stork  brooded  over  her  helpless,  scream- 
ing nestlings  as  if  to  protect  them,  and  she  and  they  together 
died  amidst  the  flames.  If  you  have  read  A  Tramp  Abroad  by 
Mark  Twain  you  may  remember  that  he  quotes  in  the  Appen- 
dix an  account  of  a  similar  incident  which  was  related  in  a 
Mannheim  journal. 

Turning  again  to  the  smaller  birds,  American  Chimney 
Swifts  (Chaetura  pelagicd)  have  on  more  than  one  occasion  been 
seen  to  enter  chimneys,  where  their  nests  were  situated,  when  the 
house  was  on  fire  and  the  roof  surrounded  by  flames.  These 
birds  have  also  been  known  to  show  their  attachment  to  their 
young  in  a  way  which  is  somewhat  unusual  amongst  birds  which 
migrate,  for  it  has  often  been  remarked  that  great  numbers  of 
the  young  of  such  birds  perish  every  year  because  the  belated 
broods  are  not  ready  to  leave  the  nest  when  the  time  comes  for 
their  parents  to  join  the  rest  of  their  kind  in  their  long  flight 
to  winter  quarters,  and  as  the  migratory  is  usually  even  more 
powerful  than  the  parental  instinct,  the  young  are  left  behind 
to  starve. 

84 


DfeFENCE  OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

Some  years  ago,  however,  a  writer  in  Forest  and  Stream 
recorded  how,  a  month  after  the  Swifts  had  departed,  he  heard 
the  familiar  twitter  of  these  birds  in  his  chimney,  and  on  taking 
down  the  fire  board,  found  a  young  Swift  attached  by  a  horse- 
hair to  a  fallen  nest.  The  mother  bird  entered  the  chimney 
and  waited  quietly  while  the  thread  was  cut  and  the  prisoner 
set  at  liberty.  In  about  an  hour  the  young  one  got  the  use  of 
its  legs  and  very  quickly  learnt  to  fly,  so  that  at  length  the  two 
birds  were  able  to  start  in  company  on  their  lonely  journey  to 
a  warmer  climate.  The  parent  had  in  this  instance  chosen  to 
remain  behind  with  her  young  one  when  all  the  rest  of  her 
companions  were  leaving  the  country,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  timely  assistance  which  they  received  both  birds  would 
no  doubt  have  died  of  hunger,  for  insect  food  was  already 
scarce. 

We  will  now  consider  some  of  the  means  by  which  birds 
attempt  to  defend  their  young  from  hostile  intruders.  In  the 
first  place,  then,  many  kinds  try  to  ward  off  attack  by  threats, 
that  is  to  say,  by  making  themselves  look  as  dangerous  as  they 
can,  and  by  uttering  strange  sounds  which  no  doubt  often  result 
in  frightening  away  the  enemy.  "Nightingales,"  says  Gilbert 
White,  "  when  their  young  first  come  abroad,  and  are  helpless, 
make  a  plaintive  and  a  jarring  noise :  and  also  a  snapping  or 
cracking,  pursuing  people  along  the  hedges  as  they  walk : 
these  last  sounds  seem  intended  for  menace  and  defiance."  A 
method  which  is  much  practised  by  birds  which  make  their 
nests  in  holes  in  trees  is  to  hiss  like  a  snake — an  effective 
procedure  which  has  often  prevented  a  nest  from  being 
plundered,  for  who  would  willingly  put  his  hand  into  a  dark 
hole  which  apparently  is  the  home  of  a  brood  of  young  snakes  ? 
The  Wryneck  and  the  Nuthatch  both  adopt  this  plan. 

The  latter  bird  often  nests  in  the  deserted  hole  of  a  Wood- 
pecker, taking  care  to  plaster  up  the  entrance  until  there  is 
no  room  for  the  much  larger  Woodpecker  to  enter  the  cavity. 
If  it  be  disturbed  when  occupying  this  stronghold,  it  fights 


DEFENCE  OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

most  vigorously,  striking  with  wings  and  bill,  and  hissing  at  the 
same  time  in  a  very  terrible  manner. 

While  discussing  birds  which  nest  in  holes  in  trees,  and  the 
way  in  which  they  behave  when  they  are  surprised  while  on  the 
nest,  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  relate  a  little  episode  in  the 
life  of  a  family  of  California  Screech-Owls  (Scops  asio  bendirei) 
whose  abode  was  a  hole  which  had  been  made  by  Woodpeckers 
in  a  cottonwood  tree.  The  nest  was  discovered  by  Mr.  Gault, 
who  found,  on  inserting  his  hand,  that  it  was  occupied  by  the 
parent  bird  and  four  nestlings  about  ten  days  old.  As  the 
mother  bird  was  seized  and  forcibly  removed  from  her  home,  she 
grasped  one  of  the  young  family  in  her  talons,  and  this  in  its 
turn  took  hold  of  another,  and  so  on,  with  the  result  that  in 
their  efforts  to  resist  eviction,  they  formed  a  continuous  living 
chain  of  Owls  which  presented  a  very  ludicrous  sight  as  it  came 
dangling  out  of  the  hole. 

The  behaviour  of  Woodpeckers  themselves  is  by  no  means 
devoid  of  interest.  There  is  a  species  called  the  Pileated 
Woodpecker  (Piciis  pikatus\  but  more  popularly  known,  in 
common  with  the  Red-bellied  Woodpecker,  as  the  '  Wood- 
chuck,'  which  is  found  over  almost  the  whole  of  North 
America.  This  splendid  bird,  which  is  unfortunately  now 
becoming  rare,  is  a  very  powerful  and  artistic  workman,  and  it 
is  said  that  when  it  is  cutting  a  hole  in  a  tree-trunk  for  the 
purpose  of  making  its  nest,  it  often  removes  the  traces  of  its 
presence  by  carrying  away  the  chips  and  scattering  them  at  a 
distance.  Those  who  have  read  The  Romance  of  Animal  Arts 
and  Crafts  will  remember  that  some  of  the  carpenter-ants  take 
similar  precautions  against  discovery.  According  to  Dr.  Ralph, 
the  Woodchuck  can,  on  occasion,  act  in  a  still  more  remarkable 
manner  with  the  object  of  protecting  its  home.  One  spring,  in 
Florida,  Dr»  Ralph  found  a  nest  excavated  in  a  dead  cypress 
tree,  and  rapped  on  the  trunk  to  ascertain  whether  the  bird  was 
at  home.  The  Woodchuck  immediately  put  his  head  out  of 
the  hole  and  dropped  some  chips,  whereupon  the  doctor  con- 

86 


DEFENCE   OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

eluded  that  the  carpentry  was  still  going  on  and  that  the  nest 
was  unfinished.  As  the  same  thing  occurred  on  several  subse- 
quent visits  he  decided  to  examine  the  nest  in  any  case,  and  on 
doing  so  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  it  contained  a  brood  of 
young  birds,  very  nearly  full  grown !  The  chips,  then,  had 
apparently  been  thrown  out  by  the  old  bird  with  the  object  of 
deceiving  him — of  hoodwinking  the  intruder,  that  is  to  say,  con- 
cerning the  advanced  state  of  family  life. 

In  America,  where  Cuckoos  take  a  more  serious  view  of  thei 
responsibility  than  does  the  light-hearted  vagabond  with  which  we 
are  familiar  in  England,  the  shyest  amongst  them  become  bold 
when  their  nest  and  eggs  are  in  danger.  The  Yellow-billed 
Cuckoo,  for  instance,  when  on  the  nest  will  often  raise  its  feathers 
until  they  stand  out  at  right  angles  to  its  body,  "  like  quills  upon 
the  fretful  porcupine,"  not  from  fear — for  a  bird  that  is  alarmed 
depresses  its  feathers  close  to  the  body  and  makes  itself  as  small  as 
possible — but  from  anger.  This  Cuckoo  is  at  ordinary  times  a 
timid  bird,  but  it  has  been  known  to  fly  fiercely  at  an  intruder 
upon  the  privacy  of  its  home.  In  such  circumstances,  and 
especially  if  there  are  young  ones  in  danger,  birds  will  often 
boldly  attack  their  most  inveterate  enemies.  A  Blackbird  has 
been  seen  to  attack  a  cat  which  had  caught  one  of  its  fledglings, 
and  by  pecking  vigorously  and  beating  her  wings  in  the  cat's 
face,  to  compel  her  to  release  her  prey.  The  Game-birds 
are  as  plucky  as  any  in  this  respect,  and  most  sportsmen 
are  aware  that  a  Partridge  will  often  'stand  up  to,'  and 
even  drive  off,  a  terrier.  In  America  the  Ruffed  Grouse  is 
equally  plucky.  Captain  Bendire  saw  a  hen  of  this  species 
attack  an  Indian  dog  and  absolutely  make  him  turn  tail  and 
slink  away,  by  sheer  force  of  character  and  reckless  fierceness. 
Every  feather  on  her  body  stood  on  end,  and  she  hissed  like  an 
angry  cat,  pecking  the  dog's  head  and  legs  and  moving  to  the 
attack  with  such  agility  that  he  was  glad  to  make  an  ignomini- 
ous escape  from  her  fury. 

Just  as  much  determination  is  shown  by  the  male  bird  in  de- 

8? 


DEFENCE   OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

fence  of  his  mate  when  sitting.  Gilbert  White  recorded  in  his 
diary,  March  21st,  1783,  "  My  Goose  sits,  while  the  Gander  with 
vast  assiduity  keeps  guard,  and  takes  the  fiercest  sow  by  the  ear, 
and  leads  her  away  crying."  So  it  is,  too,  with  wild  Geese.  The 
male  Grey-Lag  faithfully  watches  beside  the  Goose  and  guards 
her  all  the  time  she  is  sitting,  and  the  male  Canada  Goose  will 
resolutely  face  the  greatest  peril  while  he  urges  his  wife  to  fly 
from  the  nest,  standing  his  ground  bravely  until  she  has  reached 
a  place  of  safety,  when  he  also  takes  to  flight. 

Many  are  the  tales  which  have  been  told  concerning  the 
dangers  which  beset  the  man  who  dares  to  attempt  to  rob  the 
Golden  Eagle  of  its  young  or  eggs  :  stories  of  the  majestic  birds 
swooping  down  in  righteous  anger  and  fiercely  attacking  the 
robber  as  he  hangs  perilously  suspended  from  a  slender  rope  over 
the  face  of  the  rocky  cliff  where  the  birds  have  their  eyrie,  or 
clings  precariously  to  a  narrow  ledge.  It  is  very  doubtful, 
however,  whether  there  is  any  foundation  whatever  for  these 
adventurous  tales,  for  Golden  Eagles,  though  courageous  enough, 
appear  to  possess  but  little  parental  affection,  and  I  have  never 
come  across  a  really  reliable  account  of  these  birds  making  the 
least  attempt  to  defend  their  young.  Usually  they  fly  away 
and  either  disappear  from  sight  altogether  or  watch  the  robbery 
from  afar.  All  Birds-of-Prey  do  not  behave  in  this  callous  fashion, 
however ;  some  of  them  have  a  way  of  swooping  down  close  to 
the  head  of  any  person  who  approaches  their  nest  and  uttering 
ear-piercing  shrieks,  but  they  seldom  actually  make  an  attack. 

There  are,  however,  exceptions,  and  it  is  well  for  the  intruder 
to  be  prepared  for  emergencies.  Robbing  an  Ospre/s  nest  is  a 
dangerous  proceeding,  and  some  of  the  Goshawks  are  particu- 
larly vigorous  in  their  attacks  on  any  one  who  ventures  to  climb 
towards  the  nest.  Usually  the  female  alone  is  the  defender  of 
the  home,  but  occasionally, as  with  the  Sharp-shinned  Hawk, male 
and  female  join  forces  and  buffet  the  egg-collector  rather  severely. 
What  might  be  the  result  of  one  of  the  larger  Birds-of-Prey 
coming  down  upon  a  man's  head  from  a  great  height  it  is 

88 


DEFENDING  THE  HOME 

My  goose  sits,  while  the  gander  with  vast  assiduity  keeps  guard,  and  takes  the 
fiercest  sow  by  the  ear.  and  leads  her  away  crying." 


DEFENCE   OF   HOME   AND  FAMILY 

difficult  to  say,  but  if  one  may  judge  by  comparison  with  the 
impression  produced  by  an  Owl,  it  would  be  far  from  agreeable, 
as  the  following  incident,  which  occurred  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  my  own  home,  will  show.  One  evening  a  gentleman  was 
walking  through  a  wood  beside  a  small  lake  when  a  young 
Owl  fluttered  past  him  and  alighted  on  the  ground.  Without 
difficulty  he  caught  the  little  bird  under  his  cap ;  but  just  at 
that  moment  a  strange  thing  happened.  As  described  by  him- 
self, he  was  apparently  "  struck  on  the  head  by  a  brick,"  and 
was  so  disconcerted  that  his  captive  was  allowed  to  escape ; 
but  what  had  really  occurred  was  that  one  of  the  old  birds  had 
come  to  the  rescue  of  her  young,  and  had  very  successfully 
pounced  down  upon  the  head  of  its  captor. 

The  Owls,  indeed,  are  a  brave  family,  and  if  it  would  not 
be  too  tedious  we  might,  I  think,  without  much  difficulty, 
show  that  scarcely  a  single  species  is  devoid  of  courage.  We 
must  be  content  with  one  more  instance  before  passing  on  to  a 
different  aspect  of  defence.  In  this  case  a  dog  and  his  master 
were  passing  within  a  short  distance  of  the  spot  where  a  pair 
of  Short-eared  Owls  (Asio  accipitrinus)  had  their  nest.  Both 
birds  set  to  work  to  drive  away  the  dog  by  swooping  upon  him 
from  side  to  side  and  striking  him  on  the  back  with  their 
wings.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  birds  conducting  themselves 
so  boldly,  and  he  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  pursued  for  some 
distance  by  the  angry  Owls,  who  then  turned  their  attention 
to  the  dog's  master  and  endeavoured  to  drive  him  away  also 
by  swooping  very  close  to  him  and  snapping  their  beaks. 

So  far  we  have  been  mainly  concerned  with  the  various 
methods  of  defence  adopted  by  birds,  great  and  small,  against 
man  and  mammals.  But  there  are  other  enemies,  of  their  own 
race,  to  be  encountered,  and  here  again  we  constantly  meet 
with  instances  of  impetuous  daring.  The  most  remarkable  of 
them  all  is  the  behaviour  of  the  King-bird  (  Tyrannus  tyrannus\ 
one  of  the  best-known  birds  of  the  United  States,  during  the 
summer  months.  He  is  not  a  large  bird — rather  smaller, 

89 


DEFENCE   OF  HOME  AND   FAMILY 

indeed,  than  our  English  Blackbird ;  nor  is  he  particularly 
showy,  though  his  black  back  and  white  front  and  his  little 
flame-coloured  crest,  which  in  repose  lies  half  hidden,  are  hand- 
some enough,  when  added  to  his  bold  and  confident  bearing, 
to  give  him  a  very  gentlemanly  and  even  noble  appearance. 
As  for  song,  his  shrill  twitter  is  hardly  worthy  of  the  name. 
What  is  it,  then,  that  makes  this  little  bird  so  very  remark- 
able ?  It  is  this :  from  the  moment  the  foundation  twigs  of 
his  big,  compact  nest  are  laid,  until  the  day  when  his  young 
family  are  able  to  fight  their  own  battles,  he  divides  his  time 
between  feeding  and  entertaining  his  mate  and  little  ones  and 
giving  battle,  from  morn  till  night,  to  every  bird  that  ventures 
anywhere  near  his  precious  nest.  His  impetuosity  is  irresistible, 
and  he  attacks  every  intruder  without  discrimination.  Even 
cats  quickly  learn  to  shun  the  neighbourhood. 

"In  the  months  of  May,  June,  and  part  of  July,"  says 
Wilson,  "  his  life  is  one  continued  scene  of  broils  and  battles ; 
in  which,  however,  he  generally  comes  off  conqueror.  Hawks 
and  Crows,  the  Bald  Eagle  and  the  great  Black  P^agle,  all 
equally  dread  a  rencontre  with  this  dauntless  little  champion, 
who,  as  soon  as  he  perceives  one  of  these  last  approaching, 
launches  into  the  air  to  meet  him,  mounts  to  a  considerable 
height  above  him,  and  darts  down  on  his  back,  sometimes  fixing 
there  to  the  great  annoyance  of  his  sovereign,  who,  if  no  con- 
venient retreat  or  resting-place  be  near,  endeavours  by  various 
evolutions  to  rid  himself  of  his  merciless  adversary.  But  the 
King-bird  is  not  so  easily  dismounted — he  teases  the  Eagle 
incessantly,  sweeps  upon  him  from  right  to  left,  remounts,  that 
he  may  descend  on  his  back  with  the  greater  violence ;  all 
the  while  keeping  up  a  shrill  and  rapid  twittering ;  and  con- 
tinuing the  attack  sometimes  for  more  than  a  mile,  till  he  is 
relieved  by  some  other  of  his  tribe  equally  eager  for  the  con- 
test.1' There  appear  to  be  but  three  birds  which  are  able  to 
contend  with  this  champion  :  one  is  the  Purple  Martin  (Prognc), 
whose  marvellous  powers  of  flight  enable  him  to  escape  ;  another 

90 


DEFENCE  OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

is  the  Red-headed  Woodpecker,  who  greatly  irritates  the  little 
tyrant  by  his  skill  in  dodging  him  round  the  perch  where 
he  has  taken  refuge,  and  apparently  much  enjoys  the  game ; 
and  the  third  is  a  little  Humming-bird,  which  simply  defies  this 
conqueror  of  Eagles,  and  is  said  very  often  to  come  off  best ! 

Even  an  ordinary  farmyard  Hen  has  been  seen  attacking  a 
Hawk,  which  was  on  the  point  of  carrying  off  one  of  her 
chickens,  with  such  force  as  to  throw  the  marauder  on  its  back, 
whereupon  she  continued  the  fight  with  feet  and  bill  so  effec- 
tively that  Audubon,  who  relates  this  story,  was  able  to  secure 
the  Hawk  before  it  could  escape  from  the  infuriated  mother. 

Some  of  the  Ducks  are  hardly  less  devoted,  but  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  drakes  are,  for  they  are  constantly  in  the 
habit  of  shirking  their  responsibilities  and  leaving  all  the  care 
of  the  brood  to  their  mates.  If  disturbed  when  taking  her 
family  for  a  swim,  the  Eider-Duck  covers  their  retreat  by  beat- 
ing the  water  with  her  wings  and  so  raising  a  screen  of  spray 
all  around,  while,  by  means  of  a  peculiar  sound,  she  urges  her 
little  ones  to  dive.  If  hard  pressed,  she  will  spring  out  of  the 
water  to  attack  the  enemy ;  but  a  favourite  device  is  to  feign 
lameness,  and  so  entice  the  intruder  to  follow  her  while  her 
chicks  make  good  their  escape.  This  is  a  method  which  is 
practised  by  birds  of  many  species,  and  we  shall  have  to  return 
to  it  later.  Gulls  are  amongst  the  worst  enemies  of  the  Eider 
ducklings,  and  both  Brehm  and  Audubon  have  noticed  that  two 
Ducks  sometimes  very  prudently  join  forces  for  the  more  effectual 
guarding  of  their  young,  which  are  then  seldom  assailed. 

As  for  the  Gulls  themselves,  they  make  a  terrible  fuss  when 
a  man  visits  their  nesting-colony ;  and  their  near  relatives  the 
strong,  piratical  Skuas,  or  '  Bonxies,1  as  they  are  called  in  the 
Shetlands,  are  in  the  habit,  when  their  breeding-grounds  are 
invaded,  of  swooping  down  upon  the  visitor's  head  from  a 
height  of  about  two  hundred  feet.  As  the  birds  get  near  their 
speed  is  terrific;  just  before  reaching  the  intruder  they  drop 
their  feet,  and  strike  in  passing,  often  knocking  the  cap  off  the 


DEFENCE   OF  HOME   AND  FAMILY 

head.  According  to  Graba,  bird-catchers  sometimes  hold 
knives  above  their  caps,  with  the  result  that  the  impetuous 
birds  occasionally  impale  themselves  on  the  blade  in  their 
violent  swoop.  Both  male  and  female  join  in  the  attack ;  the 
swoop  is  invariably  made  from  behind,  and  directly  after  strik- 
ing the  bird  rises  gracefully  on  outstretched  wings  and  wheels 
round  to  prepare  for  another  attack.  In  the  Antarctic  the 
Skuas,  when  disturbed  while  guarding  their  fluffy  little  slate- 
coloured  chicks,  wheel  round  and  swoop  down  in  a  similar 
manner,  with  wild  cries ;  but  Captain  Scott  says  that  he  does 
not  think  any  member  of  his  party  was  ever  actually  struck,  for 
at  the  last  moment  the  birds  used  to  turn  aside.  They  often 
passed  so  near,  however,  that  the  men  were  brushed  by  their 
wings ;  and  their  tactics  were  decidedly  alarming,  for  the  Skua 
is  a  big  heavy  bird  with  a  large  ugly  bill,  and  quite  able,  if  it 
were  just  a  little  more  courageous,  to  give  a  lot  of  trouble. 

The  Tropic-Bird  (Phaethon),  or  '  Boatswain '  as  sailors  call 
it,  adopts  similar  tactics  towards  man.  Leguat,  who  named 
this  bird  Straw-Tail  on  account  of  the  peculiar  projecting 
middle  feathers,  says:  "These  Birds  made  a  pleasant  War  upon 
us,  or  rather  upon  our  Bonnets;  they  often  came  behind  us, 
and  caught  'em  off  our  Heads  before  we  were  aware  of  it :  this 
they  did  so  frequently  that  we  were  forced  to  carry  Sticks  in 
our  hands  to  defend  our  selves.  We  prevented  them  some- 
times, when  we  discovered  them  by  their  shadow  before  us  :  we 
then  struck  them  in  the  Moment  they  were  about  to  strike  us. 
We  cou*d  never  find  out  of  what  use  the  Bonnets  were  to  them, 
nor  what  they  did  with  those  they  took  from  us  " — from  which 
we  must  evidently  understand  that,  unlike  the  Bonxies,  Leguat's 
Straw-Tails  were  not  content  with  knocking  off  the  sailors' 
bonnets,  but  carried  them  away.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
both  Boatswain  and  Bonxie  are  thoroughgoing  buccaneers,  and 
we  shall  have  something  to  say  about  their  piratical  habits  in 
another  chapter. 

The  Giant  Petrel  (Ossifraga  gigantea),  or  'Nelly1  of  sailors, 

92 


DEFENCE  OF  HOME  AND  FAMILY 

has  a  more  unpleasant  way  of  repelling  invaders.  In  the  South 
Orkney  Islands  these  birds,  which  are  vultures  in  habit,  form 
rookeries  of  about  two  hundred  nests  all  within  a  small  area, 
though  not  quite  so  close  together  as  the  nests  in  a  Penguin 
rookery.  Each  nest  consists  of  half  a  bushel  of  pebbles  and 
measures  two  or  three  feet  in  diameter ;  on  this  heap  of  stones 
a  pure  white  egg  is  deposited.  In  order  to  secure  the  egg,  the 
bird  has  to  be  knocked  off  the  nest,  and  it  shows  its  resentment 
and  does  its  best  to  protect  its  property  by  sitting  down  a  yard 
or  two  away  and  ejecting  the  contents  of  its  stomach  at  the 
intruder !  The  result  is  such  that  there  is  no  doubt  whatever 
that  the  old  sealers  were  amply  justified  in  giving  to  these 
birds  the  uncomplimentary  name  of  '  Stinkers.' 

A  more  sportsmanlike  method  of  defence  is  adopted  by  the 
aristocracy  of  Antarctic  avifauna,  the  Penguins. 

Dr.  Wilson,  who  accompanied  Captain  Scott  on  his  voyage 
"furthest  south,1'  and  whose  interesting  observations  have 
added  so  greatly  to  our  knowledge  of  the  natural  history  of 
the  Antarctic,  writes  concerning  that  comical  creature  the 
Adelie  Penguin :  "  It  would  require  a  cinematograph  to  do 
justice  to  the  peculiarities  of  the  Penguin.  .  .  .  When  annoyed 
in  any  way,  the  cock  bird  ranges  up  in  front  of  his  wife,  his 
eyes  flashing  anger,  his  feathers  erect  in  a  ruffle  round  his  head, 
and  his  language  unfit  for  publication.  He  stands  there  for  a 
minute  or  two  breathing  out  threatenings  and  slaughter  till 
his  rage  overpowers  him,  and  putting  his  head  down  he  makes 
a  dash  at  one's  legs  and  hails  blows  upon  them  with  his 
flippers  like  bullets  from  a  machine  gun." 

Enough  instances  have  now  been  given  to  show  that  many 
birds,  both  great  and  small,  will  offer  plucky  resistance  to  an 
intruder  whom  they  suspect  of  harbouring  unfriendly  intentions 
towards  their  family ;  but  there  is  another  kind  of  defence 
which  is  of  peculiar  interest,  and  which  we  must  consider  in 
the  next  chapter. 


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CHAPTER  VI 
MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

Deceptive  behaviour— The  « little  brown  bird ' — Death-feigning— Lapwings 
and  egg-gatherers— Wiles  of  the  male  bird  and  protective  colouration  of 
the  eggs— Avosets  and  Stilts— Ducks  and  Drakes— Ostrich— Unkingly 
conduct  of  a  King  Vulture— Some  artful  dodgers — A  cat's  hunting— The 
paralysing  effect  of  fear  and  the  advantage  which  hunters  take  of  it- 
Difference  between  death-feigning  and  the  immobility  of  protectively 
coloured  birds— The  real  'possum— The  popular  idea  of  a  « shamming ' 
bird — A  true  fairy-tale — Natural  selection. 

IN  describing  the  various  ways  in  which  birds  protect  their 
young  we  have  hitherto  hardly  referred  to  the  strangest 
and  most  interesting  of  them  all,  but  this  is  really  an 
advantage,  because  if  we  consider  it  by  itself  we  are  more 
likely  to  come  a  little  nearer  to  understanding  what  is  a  very 
puzzling  question.  Every  sportsman  and  every  naturalist  is 
aware  that  when  certain  birds  feel  that  their  nests  or  young  are 
in  danger  they  behave  in  a  very  curious  manner,  fluttering  or 
limping  over  the  ground  as  though  they  were  badly  wounded 
and  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  making  good  their  retreat. 
The  result  of  this  strange  behaviour  is  that  the  enemy  is  often 
completely  deceived  by  their  actions  and  is  lured  on  in  pursuit, 
for  it  seems  impossible  that  the  bird  can  escape  as  it  struggles 
wildly  only  a  few  yards  ahead,  apparently  almost  exhausted  by 
its  efforts.  Time  after  time  it  is  almost  within  reach,  and  to  all 
appearance  it  cannot  possibly  elude  capture  much  longer ;  but 
somehow  it  always  manages  to  keep  just  out  of  reach  until, 
seeming  suddenly  to  recover,  it  flies  rapidly  away  and  the  chase 
becomes  hopeless.  Many  of  the  Game-birds  are  most  skilful 
performers  of  this  little  comedy,  but  the  same  method  is  re- 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

sorted  to  by  a  great  variety  of  birds,  from  the  little  Warbler  to 
the  mighty  Ostrich ;  Lapwings,  Plovers,  Rails,  Avosets,  Ducks, 
Pigeons,  Pipits,  and  Buntings  are  all  adepts  in  the  practice.  It 
is  difficult  even  for  those  who  are  aware  of  their  habits  not  to 
be  deceived,  while  dogs  are  easy  dupes  and  never  fail  to  be  led 
away  by  the  manoeuvre.  When  the  chase  is  over  and  the  bird 
has  flown,  the  pursuer  is  usually  far  away  from  the  nest,  and  if 
there  be  young  ones  they  have  had  ample  time  to  scatter  in  all 
directions  and  find  secure  hiding-places  where  it  is  almost  hope- 
less to  try  to  find  them. 

Our  common  Partridge  is  one  of  the  best  known  exponents 
of  this  curious  trick.  Its  devotion  to  its  eggs  and  young  is 
familiar  to  all  dwellers  in  the  country,  but  no  amount  of 
familiarity  can  diminish  the  interest  which  is  excited  by  its 
wonderful  devices.  The  rapidity  with  which  a  brood  of  young 
Partridges  will  make  good  their  retreat  while  the  parents  dis- 
tract attention  by  their  antics,  and  the  completeness  with  which 
they  disappear  from  sight,  have  frequently  been  described. 

Steiiand,  in  his  book  on  the  birds  of  Sherwood  Forest,  says : 
"I  once  came  suddenly  on  a  brood  of  young  ones,  who  could  not 
have  been  more  than  a  day  or  two  old ;  they  were  accompanied 
by  both  old  ones,  and  were  busily  feeding  on  an  anthill  in  the 
midst  of  the  moss  and  heather.  On  my  unexpected  appear- 
ance, the  cock  bird  tumbled  off  on  one  side  and  the  hen  on  the 
other,  with  well-feigned  lameness.  Out  of  curiosity  I  threw 
myself  on  the  ground  and  tried  to  secure  some  of  the  young 
ones ;  but,  to  my  surprise,  it  was  in  vain.  A  few  seconds  before, 
there  were  ten  or  a  dozen  of  them  in  a  spot  scarcely  larger  than 
my  hat,  but  before  I  was  down  on  my  knees,  they  were  dis- 
persed in  all  directions  amongst  the  surrounding  heather,  and 
I  failed  to  capture  one  of  them.  I  could  not  help  admiring 
the  instinct  which  prompted  these  tiny  things  to  such  instant 
and  energetic  action,  for  it  could  not  have  been  acquired  by 
imitation  or  experience." 

Some  birds  carry  the  deception  a  step  further  and  simulate 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

death,  but  this  heroic  measure  is  more  often  resorted  to  as  a 
means  of  self-protection  than  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  in 
the  escape  of  the  young.  That  is  what  we  should  expect, 
because  it  is  clearly  a  greater  advantage  to  the  brood  if  the 
enemy  can  be  induced  to  leave  the  neighbourhood,  and  that  can 
best  be  done  by  enticing  him  in  the  way  we  are  now  consider- 
ing. Still,  'death-feigning,1  as  it  is  usually  called,  is  some- 
times practised  by  anxious  parents,  and  Audubon  observed  it  in 
the  case  of  the  American  Woodcock  (Scolopax  minor),  who 
"regardless  of  her  own  danger  .  .  .  lay  herself  down  in  the 
middle  of  a  road  as  if  she  were  dead,  while  her  little  ones,  five 
in  number,  were  endeavouring  on  feeble  legs  to  escape  from  a 
pack  of  naughty  boys."  We  are  not  told  whether  the  five 
young  Woodcocks  got  away  from  their  tormentors,  but  no 
doubt  the  weaker  side  found  a  good  friend  in  the  kindly 
naturalist.  Few  of  us,  however,  have  an  opportunity  of  wit- 
nessing quite  such  a  stirring  drama  in  bird-life ;  yet  the  every- 
day incidents  are  hardly  less  interesting,  and  some  of  the  most 
familiar  birds  are  always  ready  to  'play  the  game1  at  the 
proper  season  of  the  year. 

Wherever  there  are  broad,  barren  pastures,  ploughed  fields, 
or  moorland — almost  anywhere,  in  fact,  if  only  the  ground  be 
open  enough — we  may  hear  the  wild,  wailing  cry  and  see  the 
graceful  flight  of  that  most  beautiful  and  picturesque  of  our 
common  birds — the  Lapwing,  or  Pewit.  Perhaps  there  is  no 
bird  of  blameless  life — from  our  point  of  view — which  is  so 
greatly  persecuted  as  this.  Its  handsome  livery,  which  at  a 
distance  appears  to  be  of  black  and  white  in  about  equal  pro- 
portions, but  the  dark  parts  of  which  are  really  a  beautiful 
green  gleaming  with  purple  and  enlivened  with  bronzed  reflec- 
tions, makes  it  an  easy  mark  for  the  gun ;  while  its  eggs — 
commonly  known  as  'Plovers'  eggs1 — are  taken  by  thousands 
to  be  sold  for  the  table.  Not  that  all  the  so-called  Plovers' 
eggs  of  the  market  are  really  what  they  pretend  to  be :  many 
of  them  are  those  of  the  Black-headed  Gull,  or  of  some  of  the 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

Terns,  which  are  rather  like  Lapwings'  eggs  in  appearance,  and 
can  hardly  be  distinguished  from  them  in  flavour  except  by 
people  with  a  very  delicate  sense  of  taste.  It  is  commonly 
believed  that  Rooks  also  contribute  to  the  supply  of  *  Plovers' 
eggs,'  but  that  is  an  absurd  notion,  for  there  is  not  the 
slightest  resemblance  between  the  shells  of  the  two  kinds,  and 
it  would  be  impossible  to  mistake  one  for  the  other. 

Most  of  the  eggs  sold  as  Plovers',  however,  are  those  of  the 
Pewit,  and  the  birds'  domestic  arrangements  suffer  in  con- 
sequence very  severely  at  the  hands  of  man.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  they  would  be  still  more  interfered  with  if  the  male 
bird  were  not  so  skilled  in  the  art  of  deception  during  the 
nesting  season.  Probably  most  schoolboys  are  aware  how 
difficult  it  is  for  a  novice  to  discover  a  Pewit's  nest  in  a  large 
field.  Here  and  there  a  bird  is  seen  flapping  in  easy,  irregular 
curves  over  the  ground,  uttering  its  unmistakable  cry,  and 
you  watch  carefully  to  ascertain  in  which  spot  its  interest  is 
centred:  then  you  walk  towards  it.  As  you  approach,  the 
plaintive  notes  become  more  frequent,  and  the  bird  seems  to  be 
more  and  more  distressed;  it  screams  and  complains,  and 
falters  in  its  flight ;  it  dashes  and  tumbles  frantically  hither  and 
thither,  and  you  feel  quite  sure  that  the  nest  is  within  a  few 
yards  of  you.  But  no — you  decide  that  you  were  mistaken : 
you  had  misjudged  the  distance,  and  the  nest  must  certainly  be 
a  little  further  on,  for  there  is  the  bird  in  greater  distress  than 
ever ;  and  surely  it  has  hurt  its  wing  ?  Why,  it  can  hardly  fly 
— see  how  it  is  tumbling  over  the  ground!  Ah,  you  nearly 
overtook  it  then,  it  onlyjwt  managed  to  dash  away  !  But  the 
effort  has  exhausted  it,  and  now  it  can  scarcely  control  its  move- 
ments in  its  desperate  efforts  to  escape.  Away  over  the  ground 
it  plunges  and  the  pursuit  becomes  more  exciting  until — why, 
what  is  this  ?  The  bird  has  recovered  and  is  flying  easily— 
forty — fifty — a  hundred  yards  away  !  Tired  and  breathless, 
you  turn  again  to  look  for  the  nest,  only  to  realise  that,  so  far 
as  you  can  remember,  it  was  somewhere  over  there,  on  the 
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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

other  side  of  the  field,  that  you  first  noticed  the  bird.  So  you 
walk  across,  and  to  and  fro,  and  look  on  this  side  and  on  that ; 
but  one  bit  of  ground  seems  just  as  likely  as  another  and  no 
nest  is  visible  anywhere  :  perhaps  you  were  wrong  after  all,  and 
the  birds  have  no  nest  in  that  particular  field. 

Now  that,  or  something  like  that,  is  what  occurs  when  a  novice 
turns  aside  from  his  path  to  look  for  Plovers' eggs;  but  let  us  watch 
a  man  who  had  had  experience  in  collecting  them  for  the  market. 
He  looks  over  the  field  and  sees  birds  wheeling  about,  flash- 
ing black  and  white  in  the  early  sunlight,  and  he  hears  their 
complaining;  but  he  does  not  heed  them.  His  attention  is 
directed  to  those  other  birds  that  rise  silently  and  unobtrusively 
as  he  approaches,  and  he  carefully  notes  the  spot  which  each  one 
leaves.  He  does  not  regard  the  frantic  behaviour  of  the  cock, 
but  walks  straight  to  the  spot  from  which  the  hen  has  risen, 
looks  narrowly  around,  and  then,  a  few  yards  away,  something 
attracts  his  attention. 

Let  us  suppose  we  are  by  his  side;  very  probably  we  see 
nothing  at  all  except  the  rough  ground  and  here  and  there, 
perhaps,  a  few  scattered  stones.  But  the  egg-gatherer  steps 
forward  and  stoops  down ;  and  then  suddenly  we  see  the  nest 
and  its  precious  contents,  and  we  understand  why  we  did  not 
perceive  it  before.  For  the  nest  is  nothing  more  than  a  slight 
hollow  in  the  ground  with  perhaps  a  few  bits  of  dry  grass  or 
other  vegetation  around  its  margin,  and  the  four  black-spotted 
olive  eggs,  lying  with  the  pointed  ends  all  together  (in  which 
position  they  occupy  least  space  and  are  most  easily  covered  by 
the  sitting  bird),  are  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  their 
surroundings,  unless  one  happens  to  be  looking  directly  at  them. 
So  although  the  Lapwing  entrusts  its  treasure  to  the  bare,  open 
ground,  and  although  its  plumage  is  so  conspicuous,  it  is  seldom 
that  the  nest  is  seen,  except  by  the  trained  eye,  owing  to  the 
*  protective  colouration '  of  the  eggs  and,  what  we  are  now  par- 
ticularly concerned  with,  the  wiles  of  the  male  bird  in  leading 
the  intruder  astray.  Only  the  superior  cunning  of  the  pro- 

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MAKE-BELIEVE :  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

fessional  collector  enables  him  to  walk  straight  up  to  one  nest 
after  another,  and  even  to  judge,  from  the  behaviour  of  the  hen, 
whether  he  will  find  the  full  number  of  eggs  and  whether  the 
bird  has  begun  to  sit. 

Other  members  of  the  same  great  group  as  the  Woodcock  and 
the  Lapwing  have  their  own  peculiar  methods  of  counterfeiting 
lameness.  We  will  mention  but  two — those  strange  and  inter- 
esting birds  the  Avoset  and  the  Stilt.  The  Avoset  (Recurvi- 
rostra  avocettd)  is  a  bird  about  as  big  as  a  Lapwing  and  is 
remarkable  for  possessing,  in  proportion  to  its  size,  one  of  the 
most  slender  of  bills,  which  is  curved  like  a  cobbler's  awl,  with 
the  point  turned  upwards.  Of  old  time  these  birds  were  plenti- 
ful in  certain  parts  of  England,  such  as  Romney  Marsh  and  the 
fen  district.  In  Norfolk  and  Suffolk  people  made  puddings  of 
their  eggs,  and  their  feathers  were  used  for  tying  artificial  flies 
for  fishing.  But  though  they  still  visit  us  occasionally  they 
have  long  ceased  to  dwell  with  us,  and  none  has  been  known  to 
breed  in  this  country  for  almost  half  a  century.  We  learn, 
however,  from  the  accounts  of  older  naturalists,  that  when  the 
female  was  frightened  off  her  nest  it  was  she  who  counterfeited 
lameness  ;  and  before  passing  on  to  the  Stilt  we  may  mention  that 
it  is  likewise  the  hen  who  adopts  this  method  of  defence  in  the 
case  of  the  pretty  little  American  Ground-Dove,  in  the  Southern 
States.  Dr.  Ralph  says :  "  When  one  is  driven  from  a  nest  con- 
taining eggs  it  will  drop  to  the  ground  as  if  shot,  and  will 
then  flutter  around  as  if  wounded,  to  try  to  draw  the  person 
disturbing  it  away  from  the  nest,  bui,  whether  it  succeeds  or 
not,  it  will  soon  fly  off."  This  little  bird  is  more  interesting  in 
its  ways  than  the  majority  of  the  Pigeons,  which  are  not  usually 
very  entertaining,  for  when  there  are  young  in  the  nest  it  is 
very  determined  in  its  efforts,  fluttering  and  tumbling  and 
dashing  around  in  the  wildest  manner  until  it  appears  wellnigh 
exhausted  by  the  violence  of  its  antics. 

The  Stilt  (Himantopus  candidus)  is  a  much  smaller  bird  than 
the  Avoset,  being  in  fact  no  larger  than  a  Snipe,  but  it  has  extra- 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

ordinarily  long  legs — longer,  in  proportion,  than  those  of  any 
other  species,  not  even  excepting  the  Flamingo  ;  on  this  account 
it  is  sometimes  called  the  '  Longshanks,1  or  Long-legged  Plover. 
Its  home  is  on  the  muddy  margin  of  pools  and  lakes,  but  it  is 
only  an  occasional  visitor  to  Great  Britain. 

When  the  hen -birds  are  sitting  their  partners  roam  over 
the  marshes  or  wade  in  the  pools,  hunting  for  food  about  the 
surface  of  the  water,  but  as  soon  as  anybody  approaches  they 
all  flock  together  and  fly  around,  with  their  long  legs  trailing 
out  behind,  keeping  up  a  continual  yelping  cry.  Wilson 
says  :  "  As  they  frequently  alight  on  the  bare  marsh,  they 
drop  their  wings,  stand  with  their  legs  half  bent,  and  trembling, 
as  if  unable  to  sustain  the  burden  of  their  bodies.  In  this 
ridiculous  posture  they  will  sometimes  stand  for  several 
minutes,  uttering  a  curring  sound,  while  from  the  correspond- 
ing quiverings  of  their  wings  and  long  legs,  they  seem  to 
balance  themselves  with  great  difficulty.  This  singular  manoeuvre 
is,  no  doubt,  intended  to  induce  a  belief  that  they  may  be 
easily  caught,  and  so  turn  the  attention  of  the  person  from  the 
pursuit  of  their  nests  and  young  to  themselves." 

Amongst  the  Ducks  the  seeming  lameness  takes  yet  another 
form,  as  we  should  expect  from  their  different  build.  If  the 
fine,  handsome,  sturdy  Sheld-ducks  are  disturbed  when  taking 
their  young  family  to  the  water  for  a  swim,  they  trail  and  limp 
along  the  ground  as  though  they  had  all  their  lives  suffered 
severely  from  rheumatism  and  could  hardly  put  one  foot 
before  the  other;  then,  when  they  have  succeeded  in  their  object 
of  warding  off  the  danger  from  their  little  ones,  they  hurriedly 
return  to  them  and  fuss  over  them  like  the  devoted  parents 
that  they  are. 

A  more  familiar  bird  than  the  Sheld-duck  in  England  is  the 
ordinary  Wild  Duck.  In  his  delightful  book  on  Wild  England 
of  To-day,  Mr.  Cornish  describes  how  a  pair  of  Wild  Drakes 
were  flushed  from  a  shallow  ditch  near  the  lake  in  Richmond 
Park.  "  Almost  at  the  same  moment  a  lame  duck  shuffled 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:   A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

distressfully  from  the  same  spot,  and  moved  off  slowly,  with 
apparent  difficulty,  in  a  direction  parallel  to  the  lake.  The 
counterfeit  was  so  remarkable,  that  had  we  not  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  small  black  object  dashing  into  the  marsh  which 
lay  a  few  feet  from  the  drain  on  the  opposite  side  to  the  course 
taken  by  the  duck,  no  suspicion  as  to  the  reality  of  her  dis- 
ablement would  have  occurred.  Meanwhile,  the  old  bird 
invited  pursuit,  lying  down,  as  if  unable  to  move  further; 
and,  resolved  to  see  the  end  of  so  finished  and  courageous  a 
piece  of  acting,  we  accepted  the  invitation  and  gave  chase. 
For  twenty  yards  or  more  the  bird  shuffled  and  stumbled 
through  the  rhododendron  bushes,  until  she  made  for  the  lake- 
side, where  the  ground  was  more  open.  There,  running  fast, 
with  her  head  up  and  discarding  all  pretence  of  lameness,  for 
another  twenty  yards,  she  took  wing,  and  flew  slowly  just 
before  us,  at  about  three  feet  from  the  ground,  until  she 
reached  the  limit  of  the  enclosure,  when,  uttering  a  derisive 
quack,  she  rose  quickly  above  the  trees  and  flew  out  over  the 
lake. 

"Anxious  to  see  the  sequel  to  this  beautiful  instance  of 
maternal  affection,  we  hurried  back  to  the  little  marsh  where 
the  ducklings  were  probably  hidden,  and,  sheltered  under  a 
rhododendron  bush,  awaited  the  return  of  the  .  .  .  wild  duck 
to  her  brood.  In  a  few  minutes  she  reappeared,  flying  swiftly 
in  circles  among  the  trees,  and  after  satisfying  herself  that  the 
danger  was  past,  she  alighted  among  some  wild-currant  bushes 
about  thirty  yards  from  the  marsh.  There  she  stood  for  a 
moment,  still  and  listening,  with  head  erect;  and,  seeing 
nothing  to  alarm  her,  ran  bustling  down  to  the  drain.  After 
realising  that  no  harm  had  overtaken  her  brood  on  the  spot 
where  they  had  been  surprised,  she  climbed  the  bank  and 
tripped  lightly  into  the  marsh,  where,  in  answer  to  her  low 
quack,  we  soon  heard  the  piping  voices  of  the  ducklings,  which 
till  then  had  remained  motionless  and  invisible  in  the  few 
yards  of  grass  and  rushes  near.  In  a  few  seconds  the  whole 

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MAKE  BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

family  were  united,  and  we  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  old 
bird  swim  past  at  the  head  of  an  active  fleet  of  eleven  black- 
and-yellow  ducklings,  making  for  the  centre  of  the  marsh." 

All  these  birds  are  habitually  self-sacrificing — or  at  least 
appear  to  place  themselves  in  considerable  danger — for  the 
sake  of  their  young;  but  we  occasionally  find  instances  of 
similar  conduct  in  species  that  are  as  a  rule  by  no  means  so 
exemplary  in  their  devotion.  The  Ostrich  is  one  of  these; 
when  surprised  by  man  in  the  company  of  its  young,  the 
parent  Ostrich  usually  scuds  off  as  fast  as  he  can  over  the 
desert  and  leaves  the  chicks  to  shift  for  themselves. 

On  one  occasion,  however,  Mr.  Anderson  and  Mr.  Gal  ton 
came  upon  a  pair  of  Ostriches  which  showed  more  affection  for 
their  young.  As  these  gentlemen  approached,  the  whole  family 
took  to  flight  in  company,  the  mother  leading,  followed  by  her 
chicks,  and  the  cock-bird  bringing  up  the  rear  some  distance 
away.  The  chicks  were  unable  to  cover  the  ground  very  quickly 
and  the  male  soon  discovered  that  they  were  being  beaten  in 
the  race,  so  he  deliberately  slackened  his  pace  and  turned  aside 
a  little.  The  hunters,  however,  refused  to  be  led  away,  so  he 
increased  his  speed  and  with  drooping  wings  began  to  rush  at  a 
tremendous  pace  round  and  round  the  pursuers,  gradually 
decreasing  his  circle  and  coming  nearer  to  them  until  he  was 
within  pistol-shot,  when  he  suddenly  dropped  to  the  ground 
and  seemed  to  be  making  desperate  efforts  to  regain  his  feet. 
A  shot  had  already  been  fired  at  him,  and  Mr.  Anderson  hurried 
towards  him  in  the  belief  that  he  was  disabled.  In  that  opinion 
he  was  mistaken,  however,  for  as  soon  as  it  appeared  wise  to 
retreat  the  bird  rose  to  his  feet  and  began  to  scud  away  in  the 
opposite  direction,  while  his  family,  who  had  in  the  meantime 
put  a  wide  space  between  themselves  and  their  pursuers,  con- 
tinued on  their  course  uninjured. 

We  have  given  enough  examples  of  the  strange  instinct 
which  leads  birds  of  many  species  to  behave  as  if  they  were 
wounded  or  otherwise  disabled,  with  the  result  that  their  enemies 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

are  often  lured  away  from  the  nest  or  young,  which  thus 
escape  destruction :  we  have  described  the  tumbling  flight  of  the 
Partridge,  the  antics  and  distressed  cries  of  the  male  Lapwing, 
the  similar  conduct  of  the  hen  Avoset;  we  have  spoken  of  the 
attitudinising  of  the  Stilt,  the  hobbling  run  of  the  Sheld-duck, 
the  tactics  of  a  Wild  Duck,  the  frantic  action  of  the  American 
Ground-Dove,  and  the  curious  strategy  of  a  male  Ostrich ;  we 
have  mentioned  also  how  an  American  Woodcock  went  even 
further  than  any  of  these,  and  lay  in  the  road  as  if  dead,  when 
its  brood  was  in  danger.  It  will  be  interesting  now  to  con- 
sider how  the  death-feigning  instinct  serves  birds  for  self- 
defence,  and  to  try  to  understand  the  meaning  of  it  all,  if 
we  can. 

I  remember  seeing,  many  years  ago,  a  young  King  Vulture 
which  had  recently  arrived  at  the  '  Zoo '  from  South  America. 
He  was  a  well-grown  youngster,  about  as  large  as  a  Goose,  but 
he  was  very  shy  and  behaved  in  a  most  unkingly  way  in  the 
presence  of  strangers,  when  he  was  being  watched,  for  he  used 
to  crouch  down,  lay  his  head  upon  the  ground,  and  remain 
quite  still,  like  a  dead  bird.  The  North  American  Screech- 
Owl  (Scops  asio)  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  also  practises  this 
deception.  When  the  female  is  removed  from  her  nest,  she 
sometimes  moans,  snaps  her  bill,  and  shows  fight ;  frequently, 
however,  she  does  none  of  these  things,  but  lies  back  perfectly 
motionless  in  the  open  hand  with  her  eyes  shut,  to  all 
appearance  dead.  If  she  be  thrown  up  into  the  air  while  in 
this  condition,  she  rights  herself  at  once  on  the  wing  and  alights 
on  a  neighbouring  bough,  where  she  stands  crouching  forward, 
with  her  ear-tufts  turned  back  in  a  way  that  is  sugges- 
tive of  a  bad-tempered  horse,  looking  very  spiteful  and 
wicked. 

We  need  not,  however,  go  abroad  for  instances  of  death- 
feigning,  for  it  is  practised  by  a  bird  which  is  one  of  the 
commonest  British  species,  although,  owing  to  its  stealthy 
habits,  most  people  have  never  seen  it.  We  refer  to  the  Land- 

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MAKE-BELIEVE :  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

Rail  or  Corncrake  (Crex  pratensis\  whose  curious,  double, 
creaking  cry,  uttered  as  it  skulks  amongst  the  meadow  grass, 
may  be  heard  incessantly  during  the  spring  at  almost  all  times 
of  the  day  and  night.  Canon  Atkinson  has  given  an  amusing 
account  of  the  behaviour  of  this  bird  when  captured,  which  we 
will  quote.  He  says  :  "  A  gentleman's  dog  catches  a  land-rail 
and  brings  it  to  his  master,  unhurt,  of  course,  as  is  the  well- 
trained  dog's  way,  but  to  all  appearance  perfectly  dead.  The 
dog  lays  the  bird  down  at  his  master's  feet,  and  he  turns  it  over 
with  his  toe.  It  simply  moves  as  it  is  moved,  all  its  limbs 
limp.  Continuing  to  regard  it,  however,  the  man  sees  an  eye 
opened,  and  he  takes  it  up.  The  '  artful  dodger '  is  quite  dead 
again  in  a  moment,  head  hanging  and  dangling,  limbs  loose, 
and  no  sign  of  life  anywhere.  It  is  put  in  its  captor's  pocket, 
and,  not  liking  the  confinement,  begins  to  struggle.  When 
taken  out,  it  is  just  as  lifeless  as  before ;  but  being  put  down 
on  the  ground  and  left  undisturbed — the  gentleman  having 
stepped  to  one  side,  but  continuing  to  watch — it  lifts  its 
head  in  a  minute  or  so,  and,  seeing  all  apparently  serene, 
it  starts  up  on  a  sudden  and  '  cuts  its  lucky '  with  singular 
speed." 

Now,  is  the  bird  really  an  "  artful  dodger,"  or  is  it  so  timid 
that  it  is  terrified  into  insensibility — a  second  and  perhaps  a 
third  time — as  soon  as  it  discovers  on  opening  an  eye  that  its 
enemy  is  still  there  ?  That  is  a  question  which  we  are  not  yet  in  a 
position  to  answer.  The  marsh-dwelling  Water-Rail  (Rattus 
aquaticus\  also  a  skulker,  can  '  play  'possum '  just  as  success- 
fully, and  Canon  Atkinson's  account  goes  on  to  say :  "  In  the 
case  of  the  water-rail,  which  came  under  my  own  observation,  it 
was  picked  up  on  a  snowy  day  by  the  most  intimate  of  the  friends 
of  my  youth  and  early  manhood.  He  assumed  that  it  was  dazed 
with  cold,  and  perhaps  what  we  Yorkshire  folks  call  'hungered '  as 
well.  So  he  brought  it  home  with  him,  and  laid  it  on  a  foot- 
stool in  front  of  the  dining-room  fire.  Five  minutes  passed — 
ten  were  gone — and  still  the  lifeless  bird  lay  as  it  was  put  down, 

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MAKE-BELIEVE :  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

dead  to  all  seeming ;  only  not  stiff,  as  it  ought  to  have  been,  if 
dead  of  cold  as  well  as  hunger.  A  few  minutes  later,  my  friend, 
who  was  very  still,  but  yet  with  an  eye  to  the  bird,  saw  it — not 
lift  its  head,  like  the  land-rail,  and  take  a  view,  but — start  off 
in  a  moment  with  no  previous  intimation  of  its  purpose,  and 
begin  to  career  about  the  room  with  incredible  rapidity.  It 
never  attempted  to  fly.  Any  other  captive  bird  in  its  position 
would  have  made  for  the  window  at  once,  and  beaten  itself  half 
to  pieces  against  the  glass.  Not  so  the  rail.  With  it,  in  its 
helter-skelter  and  most  erratic  course,  it  was  anywhere  rather 
than  the  window  or  the  fire.  Round  the  room,  across  the  room, 
under  the  sofa,  under  the  table,  from  corner  to  corner,  steering 
itself  perfectly,  notwithstanding  legs  of  chairs,  legs  of  tables, 
the  sofa-feet,  footstools,  or  what  not,  on  and  on  it  careered  ; 
and  it  was  not  without  some  patience  and  many  attempts  that 
it  was  eventually  secured." 

Such  a  sudden  change  from  death-like  stillness  to  frenzied 
activity  is  what  we  should  expect  in  an  animal  recovering 
from  a  swoon  and  finding  itself  in  an  alarming  situation  from 
which  its  sole  desire  is  to  escape  at  all  costs,  rather  than  the 
behaviour  of  a  good  actor  bent  on  hoodwinking  his  audience 
until  he  sees  a  favourable  opportunity  of  slipping  away  unob- 
served. Perhaps  the  bird  was  frightened  out  of  its  senses 
when  first  surprised  in  a  weak  condition  brought  on  by  hunger 
and  cold,  but  was  not  so  easily  overcome  by  fright  when  its 
circulation  had  been  restored  in  front  of  the  warm  fire,  and 
had  then  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  take  to  its  heels  (it 
would  be  more  correct  to  say,  take  to  its  toes  in  the  case  of  a 
bird)  and  try  to  get  away. 

The  question  is,  can  a  bird  be  so  terrified  as  to  be  paralysed 
by  fear  ?  I  think  it  can.  From  my  college  rooms  I  used  to  have 
many  opportunities  of  watching  a  fine  black  tom-cat  hunting 
Sparrows.  Tom's  favourite  method  was  to  lie  concealed  under 
a  laurel  bush  beside  the  lawn  and  wait  patiently  until  a 
Sparrow  alighted  within  reach,  and  then  to  make  a  spring. 

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MAKE-BELIEVE :  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

He  was  seldom  successful,  for  he  was  getting  old  and,  though 
still  a  fine  figure  of  a  cat,  was  rather  stout  and  not  so  agile  as  a 
younger  animal.  But  he  never  seemed  tc  tire  of  his  hunting, 
and  in  this  he  sometimes  reminded  me  of  those  patient  anglers 
who  are  quite  content  to  sit  the  livelong  day  beside  a  stream 
whether  they  catch  anything  or  nothing.  But  to  return  to  our 
story :  occasionally  a  Sparrow  would  hop  about  in  a  tantalising 
way  just  a  little  too  far  off  for  the  hunter  to  risk  a  spring;  he 
would  then  creep  out  from  his  hiding-place  very  stealthily  in  the 
hope  of  getting  nearer  unobserved.  Very  often,  however,  the 
Sparrow  would  catch  sight  of  him  before  he  was  close  enough  to 
pounce  upon  it,  and  then  I  noticed  that  the  bird  was  usually 
too  terrified  to  fly  away  immediately — or  at  all  events  did  not 
fly  at  once,  as  it  no  doubt  would  have  done  had  it  been  able. 
Frequently  there  was  quite  a  long  pause  before  its  little  body 
sank  close  to  the  ground  for  the  spring  which  helps  the  wings  at 
the  beginning  of  flight;  and  Tom,  in  spite  of  his  years,  was 
often  the  first  to  jump. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  this  momentary  overwhelming 
sense  of  terror  in  birds,  when  they  first  catch  sight  of  their 
deadly  enemy  at  close  quarters,  gives  the  cat  a  great  advantage 
in  its  hunting  and  enormously  increases  the  number  of  victims. 
The  so-called  '  fascination '  exercised  by  snakes  over  their  prey 
is  due  to  a  similar  cause ;  and  certain  other  birds  besides  the 
Land-Rail  and  Water-Rail  are  affected  in  the  same  way  by  man. 
The  fine  Pileated  Woodpecker  (Picus  pileatus),  commonly 
known  in  North  America,  which  is  its  native  country,  as  the 
Logcock,  is  paralysed  with  fright  if  a  man  approaches  unheard 
and  makes  suddenly  as  though  to  catch  it.  Not  infrequently 
it  falls  to  the  ground  as  if  dead  without  being  touched,  but 
when  left  to  itself  it  quickly  recovers  and  flies  off  with  the 
utmost  speed.  On  the  pampas  of  the  Argentine,  in  the 
Southern  continent,  Mr.  Hudson  tells  us  that  the  gauchos 
often  capture  the  Black-necked  Swan  (Cygnus  nigricollis)  by 
frightening  it.  This  is  a  large,  handsome  bird  with  a  pure 

1 06 


MAKE-BELIEVE :  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

white  body,  a  black  neck,  and  a  bright  red  knob  on  its  *  nose.' 
When  a  flock  of  them  are  feeding  or  resting  on  the  grass,  the 
gauchos  approach  them  quietly  on  horseback,  taking  care  not 
to  get  on  the  windward  side  of  them,  and  then  suddenly  wheel 
towards  them  and  gallop  at  full  speed,  shouting  at  the  top  of 
their  voices.  The  birds  are  so  terrified  that  they  cannot  move, 
and  fall  easy  victims.  The  gaucho  boys  also  catch  another 
bird,  the  Silver-bill  (Lichenops  perspkillata\  by  flinging  a  stick 
or  a  stone  at  it  and  then  rushing  in  while  it  sits  absolutely 
motionless,  disabled  by  fear.  In  these  cases  it  would  seem 
almost  possible  to  catch  the  birds  by  the  method  so  often 
recommended  to  children  by  their  elders — by  putting  a  pinch 
of  salt  on  their  tail ! 

There  are  other  birds  which  appear  not  to  feign  death  — 
if  we  are  still  to  speak  of  it  as  feigning — until  they  are  actually 
caught.  It  certainly  is  not  always  a  sham,  whatever  we  may 
think  about  it  as  a  rule,  for  captured  birds  sometimes  die 
outright,  being,  in  fact,  literally  frightened  to  death ;  while 
others  drop  down  dead  if  they  are  only  chased.  Amongst  the 
latter,  according  to  Mr.  Hudson,  is  the  Spotted  Tinamou, 
which  is  also  ridden  down  by  gaucho  boys.  The  Tinamous 
are  peculiar  birds  whose  home  is  in  South  America,  where 
they  are  often  spoken  of  as  'partridges,'  which  they  at  first 
sight  resemble,  though  their  small  head,  slender  neck,  and  long 
bill  give  them  a  very  distinctive  appearance.  Darwin  was 
struck  by  their  silliness  in  allowing  themselves  to  be  taken, 
and  in  truth  they  have  but  poor  brains  and  are  lacking  in 
intelligence  almost  as  much  as  in  courage.  Now  it  is  not  to 
be  supposed  that  such  a  foolish  bird  as  this  could  intentionally 
play  a  part  with  much  success,  yet  we  learn  that  when 
captured,  after  a  few  violent  struggles  to  escape,  it  drops  its 
head,  gasps  two  or  three  times,  and  to  all  appearances  dies, 
but  the  very  moment  it  is  released,  the  eyes  open  wide,  there 
is  a  rattle  of  wings,  and  the  bird  has  flown ! 

We  know  that  many  birds,  such  as  those  which  inhabit  the 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

desert  where  there  is  no  cover  in  which  they  can  take  refuge, 
and  young  birds  of  numerous  kinds,  endeavour  to  avoid  cap- 
ture, when  they  are  alarmed,  by  crouching  down  close  to  the 
ground  and  keeping  perfectly  still,  their  colour  harmonising  so 
perfectly  with  their  surroundings  that  it  is  extremely  difficult 
to  detect  them  even  at  close  quarters.  But  this  habit  is  not 
to  be  confounded  with  death-feigning,  for  the  moment  such 
birds  perceive  that  they  have  been  discovered  they  take  to 
flight  or  run  away  with  the  utmost  speed. 

Death-feigning  is  not  confined  to  birds ;  we  find  the  same 
thing  amongst  mammals,  and  though  this  is  not  the  place  to 
speak  of  them  at  great  length,  we  may  mention  as  examples 
the  opossum,  and  a  South  American  fox  which  lies  so  still 
when  it  is  overtaken  that  it  may  even  be  lashed  with  a  whip 
without  showing  the  slightest  sign  of  life.  When  we  consider 
all  these  different  cases,  it  is  difficult  not  to  believe  that  the 
animal  is  not  consciously  shamming,  but  is  really  for  the  time 
being  quite  insensible  and  does  not  know  what  is  taking  place, 
though  it  may  recover  suddenly  and  make  a  desperate  effort  to 
escape. 

But  what  are  we  to  think  of  those  other  cases  of  apparent 
shamming  in  which  the  birds  seem  to  be  wounded  when  their 
nests  or  young  are  in  danger  ?  Are  they  intentionally  acting, 
or  do  they  behave  so  strangely  because  they  must,  under  the 
influence  of  an  overpowering  instinct  ?  Let  us  see  what  it 
would  mean  if  the  bird  were  knowingly  and  intelligently  play- 
ing a  part.  It  would  indicate  that  the  bird,  which  might 
never  have  seen  a  wounded  comrade,  knew  exactly  how  a  wound 
would  affect  its  movements ;  it  would  mean  that  it  knew  what 
effect  its  behaviour  would  have  upon  an  enemy  ;  it  would  mean 
that  it  was  a  most  accomplished  actor.  But  that  is  not  all,  for 
we  should  have  to  suppose  that  the  bird — often  of  a  species  by 
no  means  remarkable  for  its  intelligence — could  reason  with 
itself  somewhat  after  this  fashion  :  "  Hello  !  here  comes  a  dog, 
and  there  are  all  my  little  ones  playing  about !  Hell  catch 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

them,  sure  as  faith !  I  had  better  try  to  attract  his  attention 
and  get  him  out  of  the  way  while  they  hide  ;  if  I  pretend  to 
be  wounded  he  will  run  after  me,  and  then  they  will  have  time 
to  get  away.  I  must  be  careful,  though,  that  he  doesn't  really 
catch  me ;  but  I  must  not  move  too  quickly,  or  else  he  won't 
follow ! "  Would  it  not  be  a  very  clever  bird  indeed  to  think 
of  all  that  in  a  moment,  and  then  carry  out  the  plan  with  skill 
that  a  first-rate  actor  might  envy  ? 

No,  I  think  we  must  give  up  the  idea  that  any  bird  is  capable 
of  such  a  deep-laid  scheme ;  it  would  be  a  little  more  than  the 
most  cunning  of  them  could  devise.  But  in  that  case,  what  is 
the  explanation  ?  Probably  it  is  something  like  this.  Once 
upon  a  time,  as  they  say  in  the  fairy-tales — and  '  once  upon  a 
time'  is  very  long  ago  in  the  true  fairy-tale  of  science  — 
when  birds  began  to  be  very  fond  of  their  homes  and  children, 
they  were  so  much  distressed  when  they  saw  their  beloved  pos- 
sessions in  danger  that,  although  they  were  dreadfully  fright- 
ened too,  they  could  not  fly  straight  away,  but  dashed  hither 
and  thither,  hardly  knowing  what  they  were  doing.  The 
enemy,  attracted  by  their  strange  movements,  naturally 
started  off  in  pursuit,  and  so  the  eggs  or  the  little  ones 
escaped. 

Now  in  many  things  the  children  and  grandchildren  and 
great-grandchildren,  and  so  on,  through  ever  so  many  genera- 
tions of  animals,  behave  like  their  parents ;  we  all  know  how  a 
dog  turns  round  and  round  before  lying  down,  because  its  wild 
ancestors  a  thousand  generations  back  had  the  same  trick  and 
turned  round  thus  to  make  a  nice  snug  bed  in  the  long  grass. 
So  with  our  birds  :  the  chicks  of  the  parent  bird  who  behaved 
so  strangely  through  anxiety  for  their  welfare  would  probably 
themselves  act  in  a  similar  manner  when  it  was  their  turn  to 
bring  up  a  family,  and  so  their  chicks  would  escape  and  grow 
up  to  carry  on  the  trick ;  while  the  chicks  of  those  individuals 
which  just  flew  straight  away  would  be  caught  and  killed  and 
so  never  grow  up  at  all,  or  have  any  little  ones  of  their  own. 

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MAKE-BELIEVE:  A  STUDY  IN  INSTINCT 

The  birds  which  tumbled  about  just  enough,  so  that  they  both 
escaped  themselves  and  warded  off  the  danger  from  their 
chicks,  would  be  the  ones  to  rear  successfully  the  most  families 
and  so  perpetuate  the  race,  and  in  that  way  the  instinct  would 
gradually  be  perfected.  Here  we  have  an  instance  of  what, 
following  the  teaching  of  that  great  naturalist  Charles  Darwin, 
we  speak  of  as  '  Natural  Selection.' 


JIO 


CHAPTER  VII 
SPORT  AND   PLAY 

The  meaning  and  importance  of  play — Fighting  games — Playful  pecking  of 
tame  birds — Nursing  and  nest-building  play — Flying  games — Swimming 
games — *  Folio w-my- leader' — Hide-and-seek  of  climbing  birds — Swing- 
ing—Birds and  children— Toys  and  playthings— Mischief  and  destructive- 
ness— Practical  jokes. 

IT  has  been  said  that  animals  do  not  play  because  they  are 
young,  but  that  they  have  their  youth  because  they  must 
play ;  and  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  their  success  in 
life  depends  to  a  great  extent  on  their  success  in  play  at  this 
time,  for  their  actions  in  play  are  nearly  always  of  a  kind  not 
very  different  from  the  actions  they  will  have  to  perform  in  real 
earnest  later  on.  In  play  the  animal  either  is  not  serious 
in  what  it  does,  or  it  tries  to  do  things  which  there  is  no 
necessity  for  it  to  do  at  the  time,  but  which,  sooner  or  later,  it 
will  have  to  know  how  to  do  unless  it  is  to  fare  very  badly  in 
life.  Play  forms  a  most  important  part  of  a  young  animal's 
education  and  of  an  older  animal's  business  training,  and  if 
I  were  asked  to  say  in  as  few  words  as  possible  exactly  what 
animal  play  is,  I  think  I  should  describe  it  as  the  exercise  of  in- 
stinctive activities  just  for  fun. 

The  desire  to  play  is  itself  an  instinct,  and  as  it  is  found  in 
nearly  all  the  higher  animals  we  may  be  sure  that  it  is  a  valuable 
one.  It  is  worth  while  to  consider  rather  more  fully  in  what 
way  it  is  so  important.  Play  enables  an  animal  to  practise  the 
exercises  and  actions  which  are  necessary  for  its  existence  ;  in 
play  it  gains  control  and  mastery  over  its  body ;  it  learns  to 
move  about  skilfully — to  fly,  walk,  leap,  hop,  run,  or  swim ;  it 

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becomes  agile  in  hunting  its  prey,  deft  in  seizing  it,  strong  in 
holding  it ;  it  learns  the  knack  of  shaking  and  disabling  it ; 
it  learns  to  lie  in  wait,  to  hide,  to  dodge  when  running  or 
flying ;  and  it  learns  to  fight  and  to  defend  itself.  Many  of  the 
things  it  is  able  to  do  when  grown  up,  but  which  it  does  not 
know  how  to  do  instinctively,  it  first  learns  in  play. 

We  must  not  forget,  however,  that  there  are  other  ways  in 
which  animals  learn  to  do  things,  and  one  of  them  is  by 
imitation.  All  the  higher  animals  have  a  tendency  to  imitate 
the  actions  of  their  fellows,  and  in  that  way  they  learn  to  do  a 
great  many  things  which  are  themselves  by  no  means  playful ; 
but  having  learnt  them  by  imitation,  they  often  practise  them 
afterwards  in  play.  Young  animals,  like  children,  take  pleasure 
in  pretending;  like  children,  too,  they  are  full  of  curiosity, 
and  a  desire  to  'find  out  all  about  it.'  They  enjoy  energetic 
action;  they  enjoy  making  things  move;  they  enjoy  doing 
things  which  they  'don't  have  to,'  just  for  the  pleasure  of 
doing  them. 

Fighting  games  are  the  favourite  form  of  play  amongst  many 
young  animals ;  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention  puppies  as  an 
example.  In  the  same  way,  young  birds  often  indulge  in  mock 
battles  which  sometimes  become  very  realistic,  especially  as  the 
birds  grow  older.  Young  Sparrows  peck  one  another  vigor- 
ously when  they  have  nothing  whatever  to  quarrel  about,  so  far 
as  we  can  see,  and  this  habit  never  leaves  them.  We  regard 
Sparrows  as  quarrelsome  birds,  and  so  they  are,  but  there 
is  little  doubt  that  many  of  their  '  shindies '  are  without  serious 
foundation  or  intent.  A  Sparrow  in  high  spirits  chirps  aggres- 
sively, another  Sparrow  answers  back ;  then  there  is  a  flutter 
of  wings,  and  all  the  Sparrows  in  the  neighbourhood  hurry  to 
the  spot  and  join  in,  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  A  general 
free  fight  ensues,  with  much  abusive  language  and  mutual  buf- 
feting, but  as  none  of  the  combatants  has  any  particular 
grievance  against  any  other  the  squabble  lasts  only  a  few 
seconds,  and  then,  having  given  vent  to  their  superabundant 

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high  spirits  and  energy,  the  birds  disperse  as  suddenly  as  a  little 
crowd  of  street  urchins  at  the  cry  of  "  Policeman ! " 

Other  Finches  also  know  the  fascination  of  a  friendly  en- 
counter, but  few  of  them  are  quite  so  ready  to  improvise  riotous 
assemblies  as  the  hooligan  Sparrows.  Starlings  are  almost 
equally  quarrelsome,  and  Wagtails  bite  and  chase  one  another 
as  enthusiastically  as  puppies.  Young  Game-birds  thoroughly 
enjoy  a  *  scrap,1  and  it  is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  thing  to  see 
two  youthful  Partridges  with  their  wings  spread  and  heads 
down  indulging  in  a  scrimmage. 

A  favourite  amusement  of  many  tame  birds  is  to  bite  play- 
fully at  their  master's  fingers.  If  you  have  ever  been  on  friendly 
terms  with  a  pet  Canary,  you  are  probably  familiar  with  this 
form  of  play.  A  brother  of  Brehm,  the  naturalist,  had  a  tame 
Vulture  which  used  to  amuse  itself  by  nibbling  his  fingers  with- 
out hurting  them,  just  as  a  friendly  terrier  will  pretend  to  bite 
his  owner's  hand  in  play.  The  mock  anger  of  a  tame  Bullfinch 
is  very  realistic ;  the  bird  gapes,  hisses,  flutters  his  wings,  and 
ruffles  his  feathers  at  his  master  exactly  as  he  does  before  a 
combat  with  a  rival,  although  the  two  are  on  the  most  friendly 
terms.  A  pretence  of  challenge  and  combat  is  the  most  usual 
form  of  animal  play,  and  it  is  easy  to  realise  how  useful  it  is  as 
a  training  for  real  warfare. 

But  though  among  wild  creatures  skill  in  self-defence,  and  in 
attack  too,  is  often  a  matter  of  necessity,  life  is  not  all  fighting. 
There  are  other,  more  peaceful,  arts  which  are  in  their  way  just 
as  important,  and  these  often  have  their  counterpart  in  play. 
Many  young  birds  make  themselves  useful  in  the  nursery  and 
help  to  look  after  their  little  brothers  and  sisters.  When 
Canaries  have  two  broods  in  the  season,  the  youngsters  of  the 
first  family  often  feed  the  nestlings  of  the  second  brood.  In  the 
same  way  a  family  of  young  Swallows  which  had  themselves  not 
long  outgrown  the  nest  have  been  known  to  help  their  parents 
to  feed  their  little  brothers  and  sisters.  Some  young  birds  are 
even  more  enterprising,  for  Altum  saw  several  young  Killdees 
H  113 


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still  in  their  first  suit  of  feathers  busy  mothering  a  young 
Cuckoo. 

Young  Moorhens  have  another  interesting  habit.  In  many 
cases  the  parents  have  several  broods  in  the  same  season,  the  hen 
beginning  to  lay  again  when  the  first  hatch  is  about  a  fortnight 
old.  The  young  of  the  first  brood  have  therefore  to  turn  out  of 
the  nest,  but  the  cock-bird  builds  another  nest  for  them  to  rest 
and  sleep  in,  and  immediately  on  the  appearance  of  the  second 
hatch  they  assist  the  old  birds  in  feeding  and  brooding  over 
them,  and  then  in  taking  them  out  in  little  parties.  But  this 
mursery-play  goes  still  further,  for  they  make  additional  nests 
for  them,  like  their  own,  beside  the  water.  Another  water-bird, 
the  Dabchick,  also  indulges  in  nest-building  play,  but  not  quite 
of  the  same  kind.  The  Dabchick's  nest  is  a  heap  of  floating 
weeds  and  rushes,  and  as  time  goes  by  it  becomes  more  and 
more  sodden  and  sinks  deeper  in  the  water,  so  that  it  would 
disappear  altogether  beneath  the  surface  if  more  weeds  were 
not  heaped  on  the  top  of  it.  But  like  many  other  water-birds, 
Dabchicks  constantly  add  fresh  material  to  their  nest,  and  as 
soon  as  the  young  are  old  enough  to  help  in  this  they  do  so. 

Even  old  birds  sometimes  indulge  in  playful  building — 
'  fancy-work '  to  pass  away  the  time.  Whether  the  '  cock- 
nests  '  which  are  made  by  certain  birds,  such  as  Wrens,  are 
constructed  merely  in  play,  or  whether  they  all  serve  some  use- 
ful purpose,  we  do  not  know.  Weaver-birds  (Ploceiis)  in 
captivity  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the  exercise  of  their 
craft,  and  if  for  any  reason  they  cannot  make  their  peculiar 
purse-like  nests,  they  still  weave,  using  every  available  bit  of 
thread  or  straw  to  entwine  in  the  bars  of  their  cage,  passing  it 
In  and  out  between  the  wires,  knotting  it,  and  weaving  such  an 
intricate  tangle  that  it  can  only  be  removed  by  cutting.  This 
is,  perhaps,  nothing  more  than  the  industry  of  enforced  idleness, 
and  it  may  be  that  in  their  wild  state  the  birds  are  too  busy 
with  their  serious  building  and  all  the  family  cares  that  follow 
to  do  any  weaving  for  mere  amusement. 

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There  are  a  few  instances  of  birds,  which  were  not  in  the  con- 
dition commonly  known  as  'broody,'  sitting  on  eggs  that  did  not 
belong  to  them,  apparently  for  nothing  but  their  own  amuse- 
ment. When  Mr.  Bartlett  was  in  tropical  South  America  he 
saw  a  Curassow  (Nothocrax  urumutinri)  running  about  amongst 
the  common  Fowls  in  a  Peruvian's  house.  Curassows  are  fine, 
handsome  birds  nearly  as  large  as  a  Turkey ;  their  home  is  in 
the  forest,  but  they  are  often  captured  by  the  natives  and  kept 
as  pets,  becoming  quite  tame  and  even  affectionate  towards  their 
owners. 

The  particular  bird  described  by  Mr.  Bartlett  was  the  tyrant 
of  all  the  domestic  animals  about  the  house,  and  would  bully  the 
dogs  themselves  and  drive  them  out  of  doors.  What  was 
especially  interesting  was  that  when  one  of  the  Hens  began  sit- 
ing, it  drove  her  off  the  nest  and  took  her  place ;  but  it  soon 
wearied  of  the  game,  and  one  day  it  destroyed  all  the  eggs,  like 
a  bad  child  who  breaks  his  toys  when  he  is  tired  of  them.  As 
we  shall  see  in  another  chapter  when  speaking  of  Ravens  and 
Magpies,  other  birds  besides  Mr.  Bartlett's  Curassow  display  a 
taste  for  mischievous  amusements. 

Many  species  of  birds  fly  for  pleasure  and  perform  all  kinds 
of  strange  antics  while  on  the  wing.  The  Parson-birds  of  New 
Zealand,  so  called  on  account  of  two  white  tufts  hanging  under 
their  chin  like  the  white  bands  which  used  to  be  worn  by 
clergymen,  mount  high  in  the  air  on  fine  days  in  parties  of  six 
or  more  and  amuse  themselves  in  a  sportive  flight  accompanied 
by  quite  a  variety  of  clever  tricks.  Moving  round  in  wide 
circles,  they  turn  and  twist,  throw  somersaults,  and  parachute 
down  with  wings  and  tail  spread  wide.  Then  they  dash  up- 
wards again  and,  closing  their  wings,  support  themselves  in  the 
air  for  a  few  moments  by  rapid  beats  of  the  expanded  tail ;  but 
they  cannot  maintain  their  position  long  in  this  manner,  and 
soon  they  begin  another  parachute  descent,  with  the  wings 
closed.  As  they  come  near  the  ground,  the  wings  are  half 
opened,  and  they  shoot  forwards  and  away,  and  so  on,  until  at 

"5 


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last,  as  if  on  some  preconcerted  signal,  they  all  suddenly  dive 
towards  the  forest  and  disappear  from  sight. 

Many  different  species  of  birds  enl  en  their  flight  by  turning 
somersaults,  but  the  only  kind  with  which  most  people  are 
familiar  is  the  Tumbler  Pigeon.  Like  all  other  domestic 
Pigeons  the  Tumblers  are  descended  from  the  Rock  Dove,  which 
does  not  tumble,  and  some  people  maintain  that  their  per- 
formance is  therefore  not  natural.  But  as  Darwin  pointed 
out,  the  birds  could  not  have  been  taught  to  perform  this  trick, 
and  the  instinct  must  have  appeared  naturally  in  the  first 
place,  though  it  has  been  strengthened  by  the  selection  of  the 
most  skilful  birds,  probably  for  hundreds  of  years.  The  result 
is  that  in  the  present  race  of  Tumblers  there  are  some  wonder- 
ful performers.  Their  usual  method  is  to  fly  in  a  dose  flock  to 
a  great  height,  turning  back-somersaults  as  they  rise. 

Some  birds  cannot  rise  a  yard  from  the  ground  without  turn- 
ing over,  and  some  spring  only  a  few  inches  from  the  floor, 
turn  a  neat  back-somersault,  and  alight  on  their  feet.  In  India 
there  has  been  for  250  years  past  a  breed  which  tumble  over 
and  over  on  the  ground  after  being  shaken  slightly,  and  do 
not  stop  until  they  either  fall  exhausted  or  are  taken  up  and 
blown  upon !  This  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  play,  for  the 
birds  seem  to  be  quite  unable  to  help  themselves;  they  must 
tumble,  whether  they  will  or  not.  But  the  more  ordinary 
Tumblers  appear  to  have  a  certain  amount  of  control  over  their 
performance,  and  to  enjoy  it.  A  bird  that  had  strayed  five 
miles  from  the  cote  and  was  driven  home  with  stones  did  not 
tumble  once  all  the  way,  but  as  soon  as  she  came  in  sight  of 
the  cote  she  darted  inside  for  her  mate  and  the  pair  together 
celebrated  her  return  by  a  grand  round  of  tumbling.  Some 
birds,  of  the  kind  known  as  'Rollers,1*  roll  over  and  over  so 
rapidly  as  they  fall  through  the  air  for  twenty  feet  or  so,  that 
it  is  impossible  to  count  their  turns,  and  they  look  like  a  ball 
coming  down. 

Besides  antics  such  as  these,  and  the  spirited  sporting  flight 

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of  the  Parson-bird,  the  games  indulged  in  by  Cuckoos  may 
appear  rather  tame,  bu4  they  are  more  of  the  nature  of  what 
we  usually  understand  uy  p]ay.  Late  in  the  afternoon  in 
May,  where  these  birds  are  plentiful  they  resort  to  some 
familiar  glade  or  patch  of  ground  dotted  over  with  bushes  and 
join  in  a  sort  of  'general  post'  or  '  follow -my -leader,'  in 
which  any  bird  among  them  is  the  leader  of  the  moment  and 
is  pursued  by  a  companion  as  she  flies  from  bush  to  bush  to 
join  another  bird.  The  next  minute  she  in  her  turn  may  fly 
away,  flitting  gracefully  across  the  open  ground  pursued  by  a 
comrade,  and  so  on,  restlessly,  untiringly,  with  no  apparent 
plan  or  order  or  intention  beyond  a  wish  to  play  or  dally  with 
one  another  in  the  spring  sunshine.  The  game  proceeds  noisily 
with  many  cries  of  "cuckoo!"  and  half  a  dozen  breathless 
variations  of  the  call,  sometimes  not  going  beyond  a  single 
syllable,  a  soft  " kuk?  a  sharp  " kuk"  sometimes  broken  up,  as 
it  were,  into  three,  or  repeated  in  various  ways. 

Snow-Buntings  have  a  boisterous  little  game  of  their  own,  in 
which  a  whole  flock  join.  When  they  are  all  on  the  wing, 
those  in  advance  alight  on  the  ground  ;  the  birds  coming  on 
behind  pass  close  over  and  settle  in  front  of  them,  and  so  on, 
until  the  last  birds  of  the  flock  are  just  about  to  alight,  when 
the  first  members  of  the  party — which  now  form  the  rear  ranks, 
all  the  others  having  flown  over  their  heads — take  wing  again 
and  fly  over  to  the  front,  and  the  manoeuvre  is  repeated  by 
numbers  of  the  birds  in  turn,  so  that  the  whole  flock  appears 
to  be  rolling  along  the  ground.  The  game  is  played  to  an 
unceasing  accompaniment  of  clear  call-notes.  On  meeting  with 
any  obstacle  or  arriving  at  a  place  such  as  the  edge  of  a  cliff, 
which  breaks  up  their  party,  they  all  fly  off  together  to  a 
distant  spot  and  begin  again. 

In  his  account  of  the  animals  which  he  met  with  in  the 
desolate  Antarctic  region,  Dr.  Wilson  gives  an  amusing  de- 
scription of  the  playfulness  of  the  Adclie  Penguin.  The  quaint 
little  bird  darts  about  hither  and  thither  in  the  icy  waters  like 

"7 


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a  fish,  dashing  to  and  fro  beneath  the  ice  floes,  bobbing  up 
from  the  water  a  hundred  yards  away  with  the  suddenness  of 
a  Jack-in-the-box  and  leaping  on  to  the  ice  in  sheer  play, 
apparently  with  no  more  serious  purpose  than  to  wag  his  tail 
and  squawk  a  greeting  to  a  comrade  far  away  on  the  floe. 
Having  accomplished  his  object,  in  he  dives  again  and,  guiding 
his  course  in  some  wonderful  manner,  comes  up  just  where  he 
wished. 

In  the  open  sea,  the  birds  play  a  sort  of  game  of  follow- 
my-leader,  shooting  through  the  water,  propelled  by  their 
queer  little  wings,  as  fast  as  fish,  gambolling  like  dolphins,  and 
popping  up  on  the  ice  floe  like  rabbits.  "  Smart,  comical, 
confiding  little  beasts,  the  most  excellent  company  imaginable 
in  such  a  desolate  region  as  the  Antarctic,  they  are  like  any- 
thing in  the  world  but  birds.""  Penguins  have  two  very  terrible 
enemies  which  pursue  them  under  the  water — the  Killer  Whale 
and,  a  little  further  north  amongst  the  pack-ice,  the  fierce 
Sea  -  Leopard,  a  huge  seal  twelve  feet  in  length.  Against 
such  creatures  as  these  they  are  of  course  quite  powerless  to 
defend  themselves,  and  their  only  means  of  safety,  if  one  of 
these  animals  comes  on  the  scene  while  they  are  fishing,  is  to 
seek  refuge  on  the  ice.  There  can  be  little  doubt  therefore 
that  their  follow-my-leader  and  Jack-in-the-box  games  serve  a 
useful  purpose  as  a  training  in  agility,  on  which  their  life 
depends,  both  in  obtaining  their  food  and  in  escaping  from 
their  foes. 

When  climbing  birds  are  alarmed  they  try  to  avoid  detec- 
tion by  hiding  behind  a  branch  or  tree-trunk,  and  they  are 
nearly  all  very  skilful  dodgers.  It  is  very  difficult  indeed  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  a  Woodpecker  if  he  wants  to  keep  out  of 
sight ;  he  runs  round  and  round  the  trunk,  clings  to  the  bark 
with  his  sharp  claws,  and  on  whichever  side  you  may  be,  he 
always  contrives  to  be  on  the  other.  You  will  therefore  not 
be  surprised  to  learn  that  the  Woodpecker's  favourite  game  is 
hide-and-seek.  These  birds  are  much  addicted  to  play,  and 

III 


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often  a  whole  family  join  in  the  game,  dodging  one  another 
round  the  tree,  lying  close  against  the  bark  with  half-opened 
wings  until  discovered,  darting  away,  chasing  one  another,  and 
behaving  generally  in  the  most  lively  and  frivolous  manner  for 
five  minutes  at  a  time. 

Other  birds  are  very  fond  of  swinging.  We  know  that  this 
is  so  in  the  case  of  cage-birds  such  as  Parrots  and  Canaries, 
which  take  evident  pleasure  in  swinging  on  a  ring;  in  a  state  of 
nature,  Tits  and  many  of  the  Finches  are  often  seen  clinging  to 
the  end  of  a  slender  bough  and  swinging  on  it.  I  believe 
Rooks  and  Crows  thoroughly  enjoy,  on  a  windy  day,  being 
swayed  about  on  the  topmost  branches  of  tall  trees — at  all 
events  if  they  do  not  they  might  easily  find  a  more  stable 
perch  lower  down.  Mr.  Hudson  and  Dr.  Sclater  describe  how 
White-tailed  Kites  (Elanus  leucurus)  in  the  Argentine  sport  in 
the  high  winds.  They  are  handsome  birds  with  ruby-red  eyes 
which  contrast  finely  with  the  snow-white  feathers  of  their 
plumage.  Their  flight  is  as  buoyant  as  a  gull's,  and  their 
wing -power  is  marvellous  ;  like  the  Martin,  they  delight  to 
soar  in  a  gale  of  wind,  rising  and  falling  alternately,  and  will 
spend  hours  at  a  time  in  this  sport.  Now  and  then  they  seem 
entirely  to  abandon  themselves  to  the  fury  of  the  gale  and  are 
whirled  away  like  thistle-down  until,  suddenly  asserting  their 
power  again,  they  shoot  back  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind  to  their 
original  position.  For  their  most  interesting  game,  however, 
they  require  a  cluster  of  tall  poplar  trees,  and  the  way  it  is  played 
is  as  follows.  Each  bird  chooses  a  separate  tree  and  perches  on 
the  slender  twigs  at  the  very  top,  balancing  itself  there  with 
outspread  wings.  Then,  when  the  next  strong  gust  comes,  they 
let  go ;  the  tree  tops,  swaying  about  with  the  force  of  the  gale, 
are  swept  from  under  them,  and  the  birds  remain  poised  almost 
motionless  in  the  air  until  the  twigs  swing  back  again  to  their 
feet. 

Crows  and  Jackdaws  also  have  a  boisterous  little  game  of 
their  own  which  is  played  with  much  zest  on  a  windy  day.  It 

119 


SPORT  AND  PLAY 

consists  in  one  bird  suddenly  hustling  another  off  the  tree  or 
tower  where  he  is  perched,  and  taking  his  place — just  as  boys 
•when  bathing  often  push  each  other  from  the  river-bank  into 
the  water. 

There  is  not  only  a  great  deal  of  similarity  between  the  play 
of  many  animals  and  that  of  children,  but  in  some  cases  a  feel- 
ing of  fellowship  and  cordial  understanding  is  shown  by  the 
way  in  which  animals  and  children  join  in  each  other's  games. 
This  is,  of  course,  most  often  seen  in  the  case  of  dogs,  but 
occasionally  tame  birds  have  been  known  to  show  the  same 
}dnd  of  playful  friendship.  Naumann  speaks  of  a  tame  Stork 
whose  favourite  amusement  was  to  join  with  children  in  a  game 
pf  catch.  It  used  to  run  after  them  in  the  street  with  out- 
stretched wings  and  seize  their  jackets  with  its  bill,  and  then 
run  away  again,  looking  round  to  see  whether  it  was  being 
followed.  It  would  in  turn  allow  itself  to  be  caught  by  the 
wing,  and  then  once  more  run  after  the  children.  Similarly 
Giinzel  relates  how  a  tame  Magpie  at  a  school  used  to  go  out 
with  the  children  at  playtime  and  invite  them  to  play  by  hop- 
ping about  excitedly  and  snapping  her  bill.  She  preferred  the 
boys,  who  loved  to  tease  her  and  tried  to  catch  hold  of  her  tail, 
but  she  was  too  quick  for  them,  for  she  hopped  nimbly  aside 
and  dodged  so  skilfully  that  it  was  impossible  to  touch  her, 
though  at  other  times,  when  not  playing  this  game,  she  was 
quite  docile.  That  it  really  was  a  game,  and  one  which  she 
thoroughly  enjoyed,  was  quite  evident  from  the  way  in  which 
she  followed  any  boy  who  would  play  with  her,  and  never 
seemed  to  tire  of  the  sport. 

Whether  Magpies,  Jackdaws,  Ravens,  and  other  birds 
Jook  upon  the  glittering  objects  of  all  sorts,  which  they  are  so 
fond  of  collecting  and  hiding  away,  as  playthings,  it  is  difficult 
to  say.  One  frosty  morning  at  the  '  Zoo,'  Mr.  Cornish  found  the 
Ravens  busy  hiding  all  the  pieces  of  broken  ice  they  could  find, 
in  holes  round  the  edges  of  their  aviary.  In  order  to  conceal  a 
large  fragment  more  effectually  one  of  the  birds  pulled  it  from 

120 


WHITE  STORK  AND  HIS  PLAYMATES 

The  Stork's  favourite  amusement  was  to  join  with  children  in  a  game  of  catch, 
running  after  them  in  the  street  and  seizing  their  jackets  with  its  bill,  and  allowing 
itself  in  turn  to  be  caught  by  the  wing  {page  120). 

Whiie  Storks  are  great  favourites  in  Holland  and  Germany,  where  they  often 
nest  on  roofs  and  chimneys. 


SPORT  AND   PLAY 

the  cranny  into  which  it  had  been  poked  and  carefully  rubbed 
it  in  sand  till  it  was  well  covered  with  a  coat  of  grit  before 
pushing  it  back  again.  The  same  morning  "the  Gulls  were 
particularly  noisy,  and  playing  at  a  new  game  with  bits  of  ice, 
which  they  picked  up  from  the  broken  edges  of  their  ponds  and 
let  fall  on  the  sound  ice.  They  then  scrambled  and  fought  for 
the  pieces  as  they  slid  on  the  slippery  surface. "  One  big  Gull 
swallowed  his  new  toy,  "a  large  triangular  piece,  which  stuck 
for  some  time  in  its  throat,  and  evidently  gave  it  much  dis- 
comfort until  the  sharp  edges  melted." 

Some  birds  undoubtedly  do  have  playthings  with  which  they 
amuse  themselves  for  hours  at  a  time.  A  Crane  will  often  play 
ball  with  a  pebble  or  a  bit  of  earth,  tossing  it  into  the  air  and 
catching  it,  or  trying  to  do  so,  as  it  falls.  I  have  seen  a  tame 
Raven  amusing  himself  with  a  piece  of  wood  exactly  as  a  dog 
does,  carrying  it  about,  laying  it  down  as  an  invitation  to  his 
master  to  try  to  take  it  away  from  him,  and  just  at  the  critical 
moment  picking  it  up  again  and  dodging. 

Girtanner  speaks  of  a  Vulture  which  used  to  tug  at  its 
master's  watch-chain  and  clothing,  or  pull  straws  from  his  hand, 
"  chuckling  with  delight "  meanwhile.  Straw  appears  to  have 
been  this  bird's  favourite  plaything  and  when  it  saw  its  master 
getting  ready  to  plait  a  straw  rope  it  always  joined  him  at  once 
and  stood  by  until  the  rope  was  ready  for  it  to  bite  and  pick  to 
pieces.  The  padding  of  its  cage  was  stuffed  with  straw — a 
perfect  treasure-house  of  playthings  ;  when  the  bird  discovered 
this  it  tore  open  the  cover  and  proceeded  to  apply  the  contents 
to  its  own  particular  use. 

Mischief  and  destructiveness  are  often  near  akin  to  play  in 
birds  as  in  boys.  Rey,  speaking  of  his  Carolina  Parrots,  says 
that  their  favourite  amusement  was  throwing  their  water- vessels 
out  of  the  cage  when  they  had  finished  drinking,  and  if  the 
cups  broke  they  gave  evident  signs  of  enjoyment. 

Linden  kept  some  Cockatoos  which  would  turn  over  the 
food-trough  in  their  cage.  He  fastened  it  to  the  bars  with 

121 


SPORT  AND  PLAY 

wire,  he  screwed  it  down,  and  tried  all  sorts  of  means  to  secure 
it,  but  the  birds  knew  perfectly  well  how  to  unscrew  it,  and 
were  never  satisfied  until  they  had  got  it  loose  again ;  sooner  or 
later  they  always  succeeded  in  their  efforts. 

Perhaps  Cockatoos  are  without  exception  the  most  destruc- 
tive of  birds,  for  they  will  gnaw  through  planks  two  inches 
thick,  and  even  through  a  thin  sheet  of  iron.  Some  enter- 
prising birds  amongst  them  are  such  determined  prison-breakers 
that  they  will  do  their  best  to  penetrate  a  brick  wall. 

No  doubt  Dickens  exaggerated  a  little,  as  was  his  way,  in  his 
story  of  a  Raven  that  died  young,  but  as  in  his  other  exaggera- 
tions, the  foundation  of  what  he  says  is  true  enough.  He 
writes  :  "  It  may  have  been  that  he  was  too  bright  a  genius  to 
live  long,  or  it  may  have  been  that  he  took  some  pernicious  sub- 
stance into  his  bill,  and  thence  into  his  maw, — which  is  not 
improbable,  seeing  that  he  new-pointed  the  greater  part  of  the 
garden-wall  by  digging  out  the  mortar,  broke  countless  squares 
of  glass  by  scraping  away  the  putty  all  round  the  frames,  and 
tore  up  and  swallowed,  in  splinters,  the  greater  part  of  a 
wooden  staircase  of  six  steps  and  a  landing." 

The  variety  of  Raven  (Corviis  corax  principalis)  which  in- 
habits the  most  northerly  part  of  the  American  continent  is 
credited  with  being  a  particularly  mischievous  bird,  and  is  said 
to  take  special  pleasure  in  annoying  and  teasing  dogs.  A 
sleeping  dog  gives  him  a  fine  opportunity  for  a  practical  joke, 
and  he  delights  to  arouse  the  sleeper  by  dropping  a  stick  or  a 
stone  upon  him.  Only  the  most  highly  developed  animals  and 
birds,  such  as  Monkeys,  Parrots,  and  Crows,  are  clever  enough 
to  invent  jokes  of  this  kind.  The  various  members  of  the 
Crow  family  in  America  appear  to  be  exceptionally  resourceful 
in  such  tricks.  The  American  Magpie  sometimes  imitates  the 
cry  of  a  Hawk  and  sends  poultry  running  helter-skelter  in 
every  direction  ;  on  another  occasion  it  will  produce  a  sound  so 
exactly  like  the  cackle  of  a  Hen  after  she  has  laid  an  egg  that 
the  rooster  is  completely  deceived  by  it  and  hurries  to  the  spot 

122 


SPORT  AND  PLAY 

where  his  lady  appears  to  be,  in  order  to  pay  her  a  few  cour- 
teous attentions,  only  to  discover  that  it  is  vox  et  prceterea 
nihil — she  is  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  Blue  Jay  (Cyanodita, 
cristatd)  is  an  even  more  gifted  mimic,  for  he  can  imitate  to 
perfection  the  call-notes,  alarm-notes,  and  cries  of  distress  of 
quite  a  number  of  birds  and  animals,  and  delights  in  doing  it 
for  his  amusement.  Owls  he  is  especially  fond  of  fooling,  and 
sometimes  he  has  the  temerity  to  tease  Hawks,  which  he  may  do 
in  safety  while  he  keeps  to  the  cover  of  the  woods,  but  in  the 
open  the  Hawk  sometimes  gets  his  revenge,  and  the  conse- 
quences for  the  Jay  are  serious. 

According  to  Brehm,  the  gentle  and  respectable  Ibis  (one 
species  of  which  was  regarded  as  a  sacred  bird  by  the  Egyp- 
tians and  figures  in  their  kingly  cartouches),  is  not  above 
occasional  practical  joking.  He  writes  :  "Those  I  have  known 
lived  fairly  peacefully  with  all  the  other  birds  sharing  their 
quarters,  but  domineered  to  some  extent  over  the  weaker  ones 
and  took  apparent  pleasure  in  teasing  them.  The  Flamingoes 
were  their  especial  butts,  and  they  had  a  very  curious  method 
of  teasing  them.  While  they  were  asleep,  the  head  buried 
amongst  the  feathers,  an  Ibis  would  quietly  sneak  up  and  peck 
at  their  webbed  feet,  from  pure  mischief,  and  not  meaning  to 
hurt  them.1'  The  Flamingo,  startled  out  of  his  nap  by  the 
tickling  of  his  feet,  would  glance  at  his  tormentor  and  move 
away  to  another  spot,  but  he  was  not  allowed  to  sleep  in  peace, 
for  the  Ibis  was  soon  after  him  and  indulging  in  the  same 
pranks. 

Numerous  other  examples  of  birds'  mischievousness,  destruc- 
tiveness,  and  practical  joking  might  be  given,  but  though  they 
are  amusing,  such  tricks  are  not  play  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word,  and  we  must  pass  them  by  in  order  to  describe  habits 
which  are  in  many  ways  more  interesting. 


123 


CHAPTER   VIII 
PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAVILIONS 

The  Paradise-bird's  play  ing-tree— Beauty  on  a  pedestal — The  Argus 
Pheasant's  drawing-room — A  wonderful  courtship  display — Sexual  selec- 
tion— The  Polyplectron's  playground  and  courtship — The  club-grounds 
of  Game-birds — Bower-birds  and  their  pleasure-houses — Satin  Bower-birds 
at  the « Zoo' — Decorating  the  bower— A  depot  for  lost  property— Courtship- 
play— The  Spotted  Bower-bird's  avenue  and  playthings— The  Regent 
Bower-bird's  love  of  colour— Carpeted  playgrounds— The  Gardener-birds 
and  their  beautiful  pleasure-grounds— The  Golden  Bower-bird's  toy 
village  and  triumphal  arch. 

TO  speak  of  "Birds  at  Play"  seems  quite  natural  and 
reasonable,  for  play  is  what  we  should  expect  of 
creatures  nearly  all  of  which  are  so  active  and  vivacious, 
and  in  many  cases  so  intelligent.  But  when  we  come  to  talk  of 
playgrounds  and  playhouses  or  pavilions  it  is  quite  another 
matter,  for  though  it  is  well  known  that  birds  have  their 
favourite  localities  and  often  remain  in  the  same  neighbour- 
hood, and  even  within  a  very  small  area,  for  considerable 
periods  of  time,  especially  in  the  nesting  season,  we  are  apt  to 
look  upon  them  as  wanderers  who  can,  and  do,  range  far  and 
wide,  flying  where  they  will,  with  the  world  for  their  parish, 
and  therefore  not  at  all  likely  to  claim  one  tiny  spot  upon  the 
ground  for  their  sporting  like  the  less  favoured  beings  who  are 
bound  to  earth  for  want  of  wings.  Nor  do  we  expect  to  find 
them  engaging  in  architectural  pursuits  other  than  the  build- 
ing of  nests.  Yet  birds1  playgrounds  and  playhouses  do  exist, 
and  though  they  are  by  no  means  common  they  are  not  so  rare 
as  might  be  supposed,  for  a  considerable  number  of  species 
conbtruct  them. 

124 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

Short  of  an  actual  pl&y-ground,  the  nearest  approach  to  it  is 
a  favourite  tree  which  the  birds  frequent  for  their  social 
gatherings,  and  where  they  amuse  themselves  with  strange 
antics.  The  Great  Bird -of -Paradise  (Paradisea  apoda),  for 
example,  chooses  a  tall  forest  tree  with  an  immense  head  of 
spreading  branches  and  thin  foliage  which  gives  plenty  of  clear 
space  for  play.  There  a  dozen  or  twenty  full-plumaged  male 
birds  assemble  in  the  early  morning  and  display  their  beautiful 
plumes,  raising  their  wings  high  over  their  backs,  stretching 
out  their  necks,  and  keeping  their  rich  golden  side-feathers  in 
continual  vibration.  They  fly  about  from  branch  to  branch  in 
great  excitement,  so  that  the  tree  presents  a  kaleidoscopic 
scene  of  dancing  colour;  and  so  intent  are  the  birds  on  play 
that  they  can  be  shot  down  one  after  another  with  arrows  by  a 
hunter  concealed  in  a  little  shelter  of  palm  leaves  among  the 
branches. 

Many  other  birds  of  beautiful  decoration  have  special  play- 
ing-grounds,  where  they  spend  much  of  their  time  in  attitudin- 
ising and  displaying  their  charms.  The  most  fantastically 
ornamental  of  them  all  are  the  Lyre-birds  (Menurce)  of 
Australia.  In  some  respects,  as  in  colour  and  in  the  large 
size  of  its  feet,  a  Lyre-bird  is  not  much  unlike  a  Megapode, 
but  its  wonderful  tail  is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  and 
peculiar  decoration  possessed  by  any  bird.  The  two  large, 
broad,  strangely  curved  outer  feathers,  whose  resemblance  to 
the  form  of  a  lyre  has  given  the  bird  its  name,  appear  at  first 
sight  to  be  notched  at  intervals,  almost  from  end  to  end,  across 
the  whole  width  of  the  inner  web,  but  the  seeming  notches  are 
really  transparent  patches  of  feather  of  an  open  texture.  In 
addition  to  these  remarkable  feathers  they  have  a  number  of 
light  filamentous  plumes  like  those  of  the  Paradise-birds.  It 
takes  four  years  for  the  bird  to  put  on  his  full  livery,  and 
then,  alas !  he  does  not  retain  it  long,  for  the  beautiful  tail  is 
soon  moulted.  But  while  he  has  it,  he  is  naturally  very  proud 
of  such  a  fine  possession,  and  takes  great  care  of  it.  Going 

125 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAVILIONS 

through  the  brushwood  of  his  native  forests  he  carries  it 
straight  out  in  a  line  with  the  body  so  that  it  escapes  being 
damaged  by  contact  with  the  branches ;  but  when  he  arrives  at 
his  playground  he  raises  it  on  high  and  spreads  it  out  to  show 
its  full  beauty. 

The  playground  is  a  small,  round  hillock,  trampled  smooth 
by  the  bird's  powerful  limbs,  which  are  so  muscular  that  he 
can  make  a  standing  jump  of  ten  feet  to  the  branch  of  a  tree 
and  then  bound  by  similar  leaps  from  branch  to  branch.  On 
the  top  of  this  hillock  he  stands,  constantly  trampling,  scratch- 
ing, and  pecking,  while  he  gracefully  droops  his  wings  and 
moves  his  tail  about  to  an  accompaniment  of  song.  Some- 
times it  is  his  own  proper  song,  clear  and  musical,  that  he 
sings ;  at  others  it  is  that  of  any  bird  he  takes  it  into  his  head 
to  imitate,  for  he  is  one  of  the  cleverest  of  bird-mimics. 
Speaking  of  the  species  known  as  Prince  Albert's,  Mr.  Ley- 
cester  says :  "  One  of  these  birds  had  taken  up  its  quarters 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  a  sawyer's  hut,  and  he  had  made 
himself  perfect  in  all  the  noises  of  the  sawyer's  homestead — 
the  crowing  of  the  cocks,  the  barking  and  howling  of  the  dogs, 
and  even  the  painful  screeching  of  the  sharpening  or  filing  of 
the  saw." 

Another  bird  of  princely  splendour  which  makes  a  special 
playing-ground  whereon  to  disport  himself  and  exhibit  the 
grandeur  of  his  attire  is  the  Argus -Pheasant  (Argutumu* 
argiis).  Though  it  has  no  gorgeous  colours,  after  the  Peacock 
this  is  perhaps  the  most  splendidly  decorated  of  all  the  large 
birds  in  existence.  Like  its  namesake  it  is  the  possessor  of 
'  a  hundred  eyes,'  the  whole  of  the  outer  web  of  its  enormous 
secondary  wing-feathers  being  decorated  with  circular  spots, 
each  of  them  rather  larger  than  a  halfpenny,  of  white  and 
yellow,  shading  to  a  deeper  rufous  tint,  and  surrounded  by  a 
ring  of  black,  the  colour  being  so  beautifully  arranged  and 
shaded  that  each  spot  or  '  eye,'  when  held  in  a  certain  position, 
looks  exactly  like  a  ball  resting  in  a  cup.  This  Argus-Pheasant 

126 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAVILIONS 

(there  are  two  other  species)  inhabits  the  forests  of  the  Malay 
Peninsula,  Siam,  southern  Tenasserim,  and  Sumatra.  In  some 
parts  of  Tenasserim  it  is  quite  common,  and  if  a  gun  be  dis- 
charged in  the  forest  numbers  of  the  birds  begin  to  utter  their 
loud  "how-how"  note,  which  is  audible  fully  a  mile  away. 
This  is  the  male  bird's  call-note;  the  female  has  quite  a 
different  cry,  which  may  be  represented  by  "how-owoo^  how- 
owoo ! "  with  the  last  sound  much  prolonged,  and  when  calling 
she  repeats  the  sound  more  and  more  rapidly  until  it  ends  in  a 
series  of  "  owoos  "  all  run  together. 

Except  when  she  has  made  her  nest,  the  hen-bird  has  no 
fixed  abode,  but  wanders  at  large  in  the  forest.  The  cock,  on 
the  other  hand,  chooses  an  open  spot  where  the  ground  is  level, 
sometimes  in  a  dark  and  gloomy  ravine  shut  in  by  dense  cane- 
brake  and  rank  undergrowth,  at  others  on  a  hill-top  where  the 
vegetation  is  less  dense,  and  there  establishes  what  Mr.  Davi- 
son,  who  knew  more  than  any  other  writer  about  this  bird, 
called  a  drawing-room.  It  is  a  very  unpretentious  drawing- 
room,  and  is  made  by  simply  clearing  away  all  weeds  and  dead 
leaves  from  a  space  measuring  about  twenty  feet  from  side  to 
side,  until  nothing  remains  but  the  bare  earth.  Thenceforth 
all  the  bird's  spare  time  is  devoted  to  keeping  his  drawing- 
room  tidy,  and  if  he  finds  a  dead  leaf  or  a  twig  or  any  other 
kind  of  litter  lying  there  he  never  fails  to  remove  it  at  once. 

The  Malays  are  very  well  aware  of  this  habit  and  turn  it  to 
account  in  their  ingenious  method  of  trapping  the  bird.  They 
take  a  narrow  splinter  of  bamboo  about  eighteen  inches  long 
and  shave  it  down  until  it  is  as  thin  as  paper  and  as  sharp  as 
a  razor;  then  they  fasten  one  end  of  it  to  a  stout  peg  or 
handle.  During  one  of  the  bird's  expeditions  in  search  of  food 
they  enter  his  drawing-room  and  drive  the  peg  firmly  into  the 
ground.  When  he  comes  home  again  and  sees  an  untidy- 
looking  object  rather  like  a  giant  grass-blade  sticking  up  right 
in  the  middle  of  his  drawing-room  floor,  the  very  first  thing 
he  does  is  to  try  to  remove  it.  He  takes  hold  of  it  with  his 

12J 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAVILIONS 

beak  and  gives  it  a  pull ;  the  tiresome  thing  will  not  break  off 
easily,  as  a  weed  should  do,  however,  and  after  tugging  at  it 
for  some  time  and  trying  to  scratch  it  up,  he  begins  to  be 
annoyed.  But  he  is  determined  to  get  rid  of  it  somehow,  so 
he  gives  it  two  or  three  turns  round  the  neck  in  order  to  get  a 
better  hold,  and  taking  the  peg  in  his  bill,  springs  backwards 
with  all  his  might.  The  peg  does  not  move,  but  the  thin, 
tough  bamboo-shaving  tightens  up,  its  sharp  edges  cut  deeply 
into  his  neck,  and  he  falls  down  with  his  head  almost  severed 
from  his  body. 

Another  way  in  which  the  Malays  trap  these  birds  is  by 
erecting  a  sort  of  miniature  football-goal  in  the  middle  of  the 
'  drawing-room,'  and  slinging  from  it  a  heavy  block  of  wood  by 
a  string  which  passes  over  the  cross-bar  and  is  fastened  to  a  peg 
immediately  under  the  block.  In  this  form  of  trap  the  peg  is 
driven  into  the  ground  quite  lightly,  so  that  the  bird  can  pull 
it  up  without  much  difficulty.  As  soon  as  he  does  so  the 
string  is  released  and  the  log  which  hangs  from  the  other  end 
of  it  falls  upon  him  and  crushes  him. 

Without  having  recourse  to  such  arts  as  these  it  would  be  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  capture  the  beautiful  Argus,  for  though  he 
spends  all  the  time  he  can  in  his  clearing,  and  roosts  in  the  nearest 
tree,  he  is  an  extremely  shy  bird.  However  stealthily  a  hunter 
may  approach  the  spot  where  an  Argus  is  quietly  pacing  to  and 
fro  in  his  drawing-room,  uttering  his  peculiar  call,  when  he  gets 
near  enough  to  peer  through  the  dense  surrounding  foliage  he 
is  almost  certain  to  find  that  the  bird  has  deserted  his  clearing 
and  dived  into  the  thicket.  We  cannot  therefore  be  quite 
sure  how  he  passes  all  the  time  which  is  spent  in  his  play- 
ground. 

Mr.  Davison  thought  that  he  probably  dances  there,  but  he 
never  succeeded  in  catching  one  amusing  himself  in  this  way. 
It  is  very  likely,  however,  that  in  answer  to  his  loud  calling  he 
receives  visits  from  the  hens  which,  as  we  have  already  men- 
tioned, wander  about  the  forest,  and  that  he  entertains  them  by 

128 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

displaying  to  their  admiring  gaze  his  wonderful  attire,  just  as  he 
has  been  observed  to  do  in  captivity. 

He  begins  by  strutting  to  and  fro  in  front  of  the  hen  in  order 
to  attract  her  attention,  casting  sidelong  glances  upon  her  and 
occasionally  shaking  his  wings  in  a  lively  manner,  so  as  to  make 
her  understand  that  he  is  in  a  playful  mood  and  quite  ready  to 
entertain  her  if  she  will  but  take  notice  of  what  he  is  doing. 
Having  sufficiently  aroused  her  curiosity  and  prepared  her  for 
what  is  to  follow,  he  halts  close  in  front  of  her  and — trrrrrh !  with 
a  rattle  of  quills  and  rustling  of  feathers  he  is  suddenly  trans- 
formed before  her  very  eyes  into  a  great  circular  screen  with  one 
edge  on  the  ground,  and  in  an  almost  upright  position,  like  a 
picture  on  an  easel.  It  may  be  compared  to  the  sudden  open- 
ing of  a  Japanese  sunshade.  Not  a  vestige  of  bird  remains,  for 
his  body  and  limbs  are  completely  hidden,  and  even  his  head  is 
tucked  away  at  the  back  of  the  outspread  wings  so  that  nothing 
shall  obstruct  the  hen's  view  of  the  wonderful  picture  he  has 
displayed  for  her  admiration. 

The  open  wings  are  overtopped  by  the  enormously  long  tail- 
feathers,  towering  high  above  all  the  rest,  and  the  shading  of 
the  eyes  on  each  great  wing-feather  is  so  disposed  that,  with 
the  light  shining  from  above,  every  one  of  them  looks  exactly 
like  a  real  ball  lying  in  a  real  cup.  At  the  same  time  the 
smaller  wing-feathers,  the  primaries,  are  turned  down  in  front 
of  the  breast  near  the  ground  like  two  little  fans  or  shields,  and 
as  every  one  of  these  feathers  appears  to  have  a  second  smaller 
feather  of  chestnut  dotted  over  with  tiny  white  points  painted 
upon  it,  the  display  is  very  wonderful  indeed,  and  if  the  hen- 
bird  does  not  admire  all  these  exquisite  patterns  she  must  be 
very  difficult  to  please.  But  since  even  his  head  is  behind  the 
screen,  how  is  the  possessor  of  so  much  finery  to  know  whether 
she  is  pleased  or  not  ?  By  moving  his  head  a  little  lower  he 
would  be  able  to  peep  under  the  edge  of  the  wing  and  so  watch 
the  effect  of  his  display.  Some  naturalists  think  that  is  what 
he  does ;  but  Mr.  Bartlett  saw  the  Argus  at  the  '  Zoo '  adopt 
I  129 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

another  plan.  He  noticed  that  some  of  the  secondary  feathers 
were  often  rather  frayed  and  worn  near  the  base,  and  he  was  at 
a  loss  to  account  for  this  until  he  observed  one  of  the  birds, 
while  showing  off,  suddenly  pop  his  head  through  the  screen, 
between  two  feathers,  as  though  to  inquire  what  he  and  the  hen 
and  the  world  in  general  thought  of  that  for  a  show  ! 

Some  people  declare  that  amongst  birds  the  female  really 
cares  very  little  about  the  fine  clothes  of  her  wooers  and  is  quite 
incapable  of  appreciating  their  beauty,  being  far  more  impressed 
by  a  bold  and  quarrelsome  demeanour  than  by  richness  of  attire. 
If  that  were  so  in  all  cases  such  a  bird  as  the  Argus  would  be  in 
sorry  plight,  for  his  wonderful  decoration  and  extraordinary 
attitudes  during  courtship  would  be  purposeless  and  entirely 
wasted,  and  he  seems  to  be  wholly  devoid  of  the  fighting  spirit. 
He  will  even  allow  himself  to  be  flaunted  in  his  own  drawing- 
room  and  driven  out  of  the  clearing  by  a  Pheasant  of  another 
species,  rather  than  attempt  to  defend  his  domain,  as  the 
following  incident,  related  by  Mr.  Davison,  shows : — 

"  I  had  stalked  an  Argus,  and  while  waiting  to  obtain  a  good 
shot,  I  heard  the  peculiar  note,  a  sort  of  ' chukun^  chuJcun"1 
followed  by  the  whirring  noise  made  by  the  male  Fireback,1  and 
immediately  after  saw  a  fine  male  Fireback  run  into  the  open 
space,  and  begin  to  chase  the  Argus  round  and  round  its  clear- 
ing. The  Argus  seemed  loth  to  quit  its  own  domain,  and  yet  not 
willing  to  fight,  but  at  last  being  hard  pressed  it  ran  into  the 
jungle.  The  Fireback  did  not  attempt  to  follow,  but  took  up 
a  position  in  the  middle  of  the  clearing  and  recommenced  the 
whirring  noise  with  his  wings,  evidently  as  a  challenge,  where- 
upon the  Argus  slowly  returned,  but  the  moment  it  got  within 
the  cleared  space,  the  Fireback  charged  it,  and  drove  it 
back  into  the  jungle,  and  then,  as  before,  took  up  his  position 
in  the  middle  of  the  space  and  repeated  the  challenge.  The 
Argus  immediately  returned,  but  only  to  be  again  driven  back, 
and  this  continued  at  least  a  dozen  times,  and  how  much  longer 
1  The  Fireback  Pheasant  of  Tenasserim  (Lophura  rufa). 
130 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

it  would  have  continued  I  cannot  say,  but  a  movement  on  my 
part  attracting  the  birds'  attention,  they  caught  sight  of  me, 
and  instantly,  before  I  could  fire,  disappeared  into  the  jungle. 
The  Argus  never  made  the  slightest  attempt  to  attack  the 
Fireback,  but  retreated  at  once  on  the  slightest  movement  of 
the  latter  towards  it,  nor  did  I  see  the  Fireback  strike  the 
Argus  with  either  bill,  wings,  or  spurs." 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  Polyplectron,  a  near  relative  of 
the  Argus,  is  equally  peaceable  in  its  disposition,  but  this  is 
hardly  likely  because  the  cock-bird  has  weapons  on  his  legs,  in 
the  form  of  double  spurs,  which  mark  him  out  for  a  fighter,  and 
look  quite  capable  of  making  short  work  of  an  adversary.  The 
Polyplectron  is  a  splendid  little  Pheasant  which  inhabits  almost 
the  same  region  of  the  world  as  the  Argus,  but  is  rather  scarce 
and  local.  In  the  island  of  Palawan,  to  the  north  of  Borneo, 
Mr.  Whitehead  found  it  in  only  one  forest.  Like  the  Argus, 
it  makes  a  clearing  in  some  unfrequented  spot  and  keeps  it 
neatly  swept.  Right  in  the  middle  of  the  ring,  which  is  much 
smaller  than  the  Argus's  drawing-room,  there  is  often  a  hump  of 
earth,  where  the  bird  no  doubt  stands,  as  on  a  pedestal,  to  show 
off  his  fine  feathers ;  for  though  he  is  a  much  smaller  bird  than 
the  Argus,  he  is  hardly  less  wonderfully  adorned,  and  is  even 
more  ingenious  than  that  bird  in  striking  attitudes  when 
courting.  His  feathers  are  marked  with  brilliant  eyes  like 
those  on  a  Peacock's  train,  but  in  his  case  the  ornaments 
appear  on  the  wings  as  well. 

Now  when  a  Peacock  wants  to  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage 
by  his  lady-love,  he  stands  facing  her,  because  he  has  to  show 
her  his  beautiful  blue  throat  and  breast  as  well  as  his  wonderful 
tail.  But  there  is  nothing  very  attractive  about  the 
Polyplectron's  breast,  which  is  rather  dull  and  sombre  than 
otherwise  ;  so  he  turns  it  away,  out  of  sight,  while  he  raises  and 
spreads  his  tail  and  twists  it  a  little  to  one  side,  at  the  same 
time  dropping  the  nearer  wing  and  raising  the  opposite  one. 
In  this  ingenious  attitude  he  struts  before  the  admiring  female 

131 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAVILIONS 

with  every  'eye1  he  possesses  turned  towards  her.  If  she 
walks  over  to  the  other  side  of  him,  he  at  once  changes  front, 
throwing  up  the  opposite  wing  and  giving  his  tail  a  twist  so  that 
she  may  still  see  only  what  is  most  beautiful  in  his  plumage. 

Both  the  Argus  and  the  Polyplectron,  then,  make  little 
private  playgrounds  where  they  spend  their  time  either  in 
solitude  or  with  only  one  spectator  to  admire  their  antics ;  but 
many  Game-birds  have  a  sort  of  club-ground  where  they  meet 
and  sport  in  company,  and  that  is,  of  course,  in  some  ways  far 
more  interesting.  Being  Game-birds,  however,  they  seem  to  be 
unable  to  play  without  quarrelling,  and  as  there  is  a  great  deal 
to  be  told  about  their  doings  I  think  we  had  better  reserve 
them  until  we  come  to  consider  the  courtship  of  birds,  when 
we  shall  have  to  speak  about  their  dancing  parties  and  tourna- 
ments. 

We  now  come  to  one  of  the  most  remarkable  circumstances 
in  bird-life.  In  the  Australian  region,  the  home  of  the  Mound- 
Builders  (whose  curious  '  incubators '  we  have  already  de- 
scribed), and  of  the  strangely  adorned  and  interesting  Lyre- 
birds, there  dwells  a  family  known  as  the  Ptilonorhynchidce  or 
Bower-birds.  There  is  nothing  very  extraordinary  in  the  ap- 
pearance of  these  birds,  which  are  about  the  size  of  a  Jackdaw 
(to  which  they  are  allied)  and  usually  by  no  means  bright  in 
colour,  though  some  of  them  have  gaily  coloured  crests  or  parti- 
cularly glossy  plumage.  Their  claim  to  distinction  lies  in  their 
astonishing  habit  of  building  arbours  and  playhouses,  or 
pavilions,  which  are  in  some  cases  surrounded  by  elaborate 
pleasure-grounds,  and  are  the  most  curious  of  the  many  strange 
examples  of  bird  architecture.  These  arbours  or  bowers  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  nests  which  the  birds  build,  and  which 
are  of  quite  an  ordinary  kind,  being  not  unlike  that  of  our  own 
Jay.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  designed  and  erected  and  laid 
out  for  amusement  and  play,  and  for  nothing  else.  Every  kind 
of  Bower-bird  has  its  own  peculiar  style  of  architecture ;  some 
of  the  bowers  are  quite  simple  in  form  and  others  are  more 

132 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAVILIONS 

elaborate,  but  they  are  all  so  strange  that  if  you  came  across 
one  and  did  not  know  that  it  had  been  made  by  a  bird,  I  think 
you  would  be  quite  sure  that  you  had  at  last  discovered  the 
real  home  of  a  fairy. 

The  species  of  Bower-bird  which  is  best  known  in  this 
country  is  the  Satin  Bower-bird  (Ptilonorliynchus  violaceus), 
whose  name  is  derived  from  his  beautiful  glossy  blue-black 
plumage,  which  shines  like  satin  in  the  sunlight.  He  has, 
besides,  large  and  lustrous  eyes  of  azure  blue,  set  in  a  circle  of 
coral  red,  and  is  altogether  a  handsome  bird  in  spite  of  his  quiet 
colouring.  The  female  is  greenish  in  colour  and  by  no  means 
so  glossy  as  her  husband,  though  she  of  course  shares  his  name. 
Both  male  and  female  may  be  seen  in  our  Zoological  Gardens, 
where  you  may  often  find  them  at  play  and  watch  the  cock- 
bird  building  his  bower. 

The  bower  is  built  of  slender  twigs,  arranged  in  the  form  of 
a  very  short  avenue,  open,  of  course,  at  both  ends.  Some  of 
the  twigs  are  curved  and  cross  each  other  overhead,  so  that  on 
looking  through  the  bower  you  see  that  the  top  of  the  tunnel 
is  pointed,  like  a  Gothic  arch.  Only  a  few  of  the  twigs  meet 
in  this  way,  however,  so  the  roof  is  not  really  closed  in,  but  is 
formed  of  a  delicate  open  network  or  tracery.  The  ends  of  the 
twigs  of  which  the  sides  of  the  bower  are  built  are  firmly  inter- 
woven into  a  platform  of  sticks  which  forms  the  floor.  The 
male  bird  is  the  chief  worker,  though  his  partner  sometimes 
helps  him  a  little  in  his  task. 

When  the  building  is  finished,  or  perhaps  even  sooner,  the 
birds  turn  their  attention  to  the  decoration,  and  in  this  they 
show  a  curious  fancy.  In  the  Gardens  they  use  any  bright- 
coloured  objects  which  are  supplied  by  their  keeper,  such  as 
bits  of  wool,  shreds  of  cloth,  or  scraps  of  paper,  but  in  their 
native  forests,  where  the  bowers  are  found  in  remote  spots 
under  the  shelter  of  overhanging  branches,  they  collect  gaudy 
Parrots'  feathers  and  dead  leaves  for  the  adornment  of  their 
playing-ground.  What  they  particularly  fancy,  however,  are 

133 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAVILIONS 

shells  and  the  bleached  bones  of  animals,  which  are  sometimes 
found  in  great  numbers  at  the  entrance  to  the  bower.  In  one 
bower,  which  was  photographed  by  Mr.  North,  there  were 
twelve  pieces  of  wallabies1  bones,  three  pieces  of  moss,  a  spray 
of  acacia  blossom,  some  eucalyptus  cones,  seven  shells,  and  the 
egg-bag  of  a  spider — as  miscellaneous  a  collection  of  play- 
things as  one  would  find  in  a  small  boy's  pocket.  The  fact  is, 
these  Bower-birds  are  such  inveterate  collectors  that  they  will 
appropriate  almost  any  object  of  a  suitable  size  that  they  come 
across,  and  this  habit  is  so  well  known  to  the  natives  that  when 
any  small  ornament  or  similar  object  is  missing  they  make  a 
point  of  going  round  first  of  all  to  all  the  bowers  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood to  look  for  it.  Mr.  Gould  once  found  a  stone 
tomahawk  amongst  the  birds'  treasures,  and  in  another  instance 
the  edifice  was  decked  with  a  variety  of  blue  woollen  scraps 
which  had  no  doubt  been  stolen  from  some  neighbouring 
settlement. 

These  objects  are  used  as  playthings  as  well  as  for  the 
decoration  of  the  bower,  and  even  for  the  adornment  of  the 
male  bird  during  courtship.  There  is  very  little  doubt  that  all 
the  playgrounds  made  by  birds  are  in  some  way  connected  with 
courtship,  though  they  are  used  for  amusement  as  well.  That 
is  what  we  should  expect  if  we  are  right  in  believing  that 
animal  play  of  all  kinds  is  really  preparation  or  practice  for 
the  more  serious  business  of  their  lives,  for  what  is  more  im- 
portant to  a  bird  than  the  winning  of  a  mate  ?  We  therefore 
find  that  there  is  courtship  play  just  as  there  is  hunting  or 
fighting  play,  or  nest-building  play,  or  flying  games. 

When-  the  Bower-bird  is  wooing  his  lady  he  behaves  in  a  very 
energetic  manner.  He  chases  her  about,  seizes  a  gay  feather  or 
a  large  leaf  in  his  bill  (no  doubt  to  make  himself  more  beauti- 
ful, just  as  a  human  wooer  is  sometimes  known  to  put  a  flower 
in  his  buttonhole),  utters  a  curious  kind  of  note,  ruffles  his 
feathers,  runs  round  the  bower,  and  becomes  so  excited  that  his 
bright  eyes  seem  almost  to  start  out  of  his  head.  He  opens 

'34 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAVILIONS 

first  one  wing  and  then  the  other,  whistles,  pretends  to  pick  up 
something  from  the  ground,  and  exercises  every  art  which  could 
possibly  prove  attractive  to  the  lady  of  the  bower,  until  at  last 
she  can  no  longer  resist  his  allurements. 

The  Spotted  Bower-bird  (Chlamydodera  maculata)  is  more 
ambitious  in  its  architecture  than  the  species  which  we  have 
just  described.  Its  arbour,  like  that  of  the  Satin-bird,  has  the 
form  of  an  avenue,  but  it  is  two  or  three  feet  long,  and  is  built 
on  a  different  principle.  In  the  first  place,  instead  of  making 
a  platform  of  sticks  to  support  the  walls,  these  birds,  like  our- 
selves, prefer  underground  foundations,  and  dig  a  trench  on 
each  side  in  which  they  plant  the  ends  of  their  sticks,  so  as  to 
form  an  arched  walk.  Then  they  line  the  walls  with  tall 
grasses  so  disposed  that  their  heads  nearly  meet,  and  cleverly 
kept  in  their  places  by  stones  placed  on  the  ends  of  the  stems 
along  the  floor  of  the  avenue.  At  each  end  the  stones  diverge 
from  the  entrance,  so  as  to  form  a  little  path  on  either  side. 
The  Spotted  Bower-birds  are  even  more  industrious  collectors 
than  the  Satin-bird,  for  they  accumulate  as  much  as  half  a 
bushel  of  shells,  stones,  bones  and  skulls  of  small  animals,  and 
other  objects,  at  each  entrance  to  the  bower.  Mr.  North  dis- 
covered a  bower  in  which  the  birds1  originality  and  inventive 
genius  had  led  them  to  construct  a  second  arch  over  the 
middle  of  the  first  one  by  continuing  the  upward  curve  of  the 
twigs,  and  the  architects  had  added  several  Eley's  cartridge- 
cases  to  their  decorations. 

The  birds  visit  the  deserted  camp-fires   of   the   natives  in 
search   of    bones   and   other  "  unconsidered   trifles,"   but   the 
smooth,  round  pebbles  and  some  of  the  shells  can  only  be 
obtained  from  rivers  and  streams,  or  from  the  sea-shore,  and  as 
these  are  often  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  bowers — in 
some  cases  several  miles  away — a  great  deal  of  labour  must  be 
spent  on  the  collection.     Mr.  Lumholtz1  says  :  "  There  are  fre- 
quently hundreds  of  shells,  about  three  hundred  in  one  heap 
1  Among  Cannibals \ 
135 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

and  fifty  in  the  other.  There  is  also  usually  a  handful  of  green 
berries  partly  inside  and  partly  outside  of  the  bower ;  but  like 
the  empty  shells  and  the  other  things  collected,  they  are  simply 
for  amusement.  .  .  .  This  bower-bird  has  another  remarkable 
quality,  in  its  wonderful  power  of  imitating  sounds.  When  it 
visits  the  farms,  where  it  commits  great  depredations  in  the 
gardens,  it  soon  learns  to  mew  like  a  cat  or  to  crow  like  a 
cock." 

The  shells  are  not  regarded  by  the  birds  merely  as  orna- 
ments ;  they  are  true  playthings,  with  which  they  amuse  them- 
selves for  hours  at  a  time.  The  Great  Bower-bird,  for  instance, 
picks  up  a  shell  from  one  heap  and,  carrying  it  in  its  beak, 
runs  through  the  archway  and  adds  it  to  the  pile  at  the 
opposite  end.  It  then  chooses  another  shell  from  the  second 
heap  and  hurries  back  with  it,  and  so  on,  taking  a  shell  from 
each  side  alternately  and  flitting  to  and  fro  through  the 
bower. 

The  handsome  Regent  Bower-bird  (Serkulus  melinus),  whose 
bower  is  very  much  like  that  of  the  Satin-bird,  gives  evidence 
of  much  artistic  taste,  using  berries  of  several  kinds  and 
colours,  young  shoots  of  a  pinkish  tint,  and  freshly  gathered 
leaves,  for  the  adornment  of  its  playhouse.  The  ground 
beside  the  bower  is  swept  clear  of  leaves,  and  here  the  male 
bird  has  been  seen  jumping  about,  puffing  out  his  feathers, 
rolling  over,  and  indulging  in  all  sorts  of  queer  antics.  Two 
other  species,  Scenoposus  and  Ailurccdus,  build  no  bower  at  all, 
but  prepare  an  elaborate  playground  by  first  making  a  clearing 
six  or  eight  feet  wide,  and  then  spreading  over  it  a  beautiful 
green  carpet  of  leaves  and  grasses.  Mr.  Lumholtz  describes 
how,  on  one  of  his  excursions  amidst  the  dense  scrub  on  a 
mountain-top,  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the  loud  and  un- 
ceasing voice  of  a  bird.  On  approaching  the  spot  whence  the 
sound  proceeded  he  found  a  modest  little  grey  bird,  about  the 
size  of  a  thrush,  the  Scenopoeus  dentirostris.  The  bird  had 
been  neatly  arranging  a  number  of  large  fresh  leaves  side  by 

136 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

side  on  the  black  soil,  and  was  singing  happily  over  his  work. 
As  soon  as  the  leaves  fade  they  are  replaced  by  new  ones,  so 
that  the  bird  always  has  a  nice  bright  carpet  to  play  on.  "  On 
this  excursion,"  Mr.  Lumholtz  writes,  "I  saw  three  such  places  of 
amusement,  all  near  one  another,  and  all  had  fresh  leaves  from 
the  same  kind  of  trees,  while  a  large  heap  of  dry,  withered 
leaves  was  lying  close  by.  It  seems  that  the  bird  scrapes  away 
the  mould  every  time  it  changes  the  leaves,  so  as  to  have  a 
dark  background,  against  which  the  green  leaves  make  a  better 
appearance.  Can  any  one  doubt  that  this  bird  has  the  sense  of 
beauty  ? 

"  The  bird  was  quite  common.  Later  on  I  frequently  found 
it  on  the  summit  of  the  Coast  Mountains  in  the  large  scrubs, 
which  it  never  abandons.  The  natives  call  it  gramma — that 
is,  the  thief — because  it  steals  the  leaves  which  it  uses  to  play 
with.11 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  taste  of  the  several  kinds  of 
Bower-birds  differs  :  one  species  collects  the  blue  tail-feathers  of 
Parrakeets,  bleached  bones,  and  shells ;  another  has  a  fondness 
for  smooth  pebbles  and  tall  grasses  ;  some  show  a  preference  for 
large  green  leaves,  and  some  for  berries.  But  none  show  such 
a  lively  sense  of  the  beautiful  as  the  Gardener-birds,  whose 
wonderful  arbours  and  pleasure-grounds  are  perhaps  the  most 
marvellous  examples  of  animal  art.  Mr.  Wallace  thought  that 
there  was  no  good  reason  for  believing  that  birds  take  any 
delight  in  colour  for  its  own  sake ;  according  to  his  view,  a 
Bower-bird  would  only  rejoice  in  bright  berries  because  they 
are  often  good  to  eat.  But  the  Spotted  Bower-bird  and  the 
Regent-bird  collect  berries  merely  to  play  with,  to  carry  about, 
and  to  arrange  and  rearrange  amongst  the  twigs  of  the  bower ; 
and  the  case  is  even  stronger  in  favour  of  the  Gardener-birds, 
which  gather  not  only  berries,  but  bright  orchids  and  other 
beautiful  flowers,  which  they  use  in  making  for  themselves 
lovely  gardens  with  mossy  lawns  and  the  most  delightful  little 
summer-houses  you  could  imagine. 

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PLAYGROUNDS  AND  PAVILIONS 

These  fascinating  birds  live  in  New  Guinea,  where  bright 
blossoms  and  brilliant  berries  are  plentiful.  We  owe  the 
earliest  description  of  their  fairy-like  gardens  to  Dr.  Beccari, 
an  Italian  naturalist.  The  species  which  he  met  with  was  the 
Gardener-bird  known  as  Aniblyornis  inornata^  and  I  think  we 
had  better  let  him  tell  us  in  his  own  words  exactly  what  he 
saw,  leaving  out  a  little  here  and  there  because  the  account  is 
rather  long. 

He  says  :  "  I  had  just  killed  a  small  new  species  of  Marsupial 
which  balanced  itself  on  the  stem  of  a  great  tree  like  a  Squirrel ; 
and  turning  round,  I  suddenly  stood  before  a  most  remarkable 
specimen  of  the  industry  of  an  animal.  It  was  a  hut  or 
bower  close  to  a  small  meadow  enamelled  with  flowers,  on  a 
diminutive  scale.  After  well  observing  the  whole,  I  gave  strict 
orders  to  my  hunters  not  to  destroy  the  little  building.  That, 
however,  was  an  unnecessary  caution,  since  the  Papuans  take 
great  care  never  to  disturb  these  nests  or  bowers,  even  if  they 
are  in  the  way. 

"  While  I  was  there,  neither  host  nor  hostess  were  at 
home,  and  I  could  not  wait  for  them.  My  hunters  saw  them 
going  in  and  out,  when  they  watched  their  movements  to  shoot 
them.  I  could  not  ascertain  whether  this  bower  was  occupied 
by  one  pair,  or  by  several  pairs  of  birds — whether  the  male 
alone  was  the  builder,  or  whether  the  wife  assisted  in  the  con- 
struction. I  believe,  however,  that  such  a  bower  lasts  for 
several  seasons. 

"The  Amblyornis  selects  a  flat,  even  place  around  the  trunk 
of  a  small  tree,  about  as  thick  and  as  high  as  a  medium-sized 
walking-stick.  It  begins  by  constructing  at  the  base  of  the 
tree  a  kind  of  cone,  chiefly  of  moss,  of  the  size  of  a  man's  hand. 
The  trunk  of  the  tree  becomes  the  central  pillar,  and  the  whole 
building  is  supported  by  it.  On  the  top  of  the  central  pillar 
twigs  are  then  methodically  placed  in  a  radiating  manner  rest- 
ing on  the  ground,  leaving  an  aperture  for  the  entrance ;  thus 
is  obtained  a  conical  and  very  regular  hut.  When  the  work  is 

138 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

complete  many  other  branches  are  placed  so  as  to  make  the 
whole  quite  firm  and  impermeable  to  wet.  A  circular  gallery  is 
left  between  the  walls  and  the  central  cone,  the  whole  bower 
being  about  three  feet  in  diameter.  All  the  stems  used  by  the 
AmUyornis  are  the  thin  stems  of  an  orchid  forming  large  tufts 
on  the  mossy  branches  of  great  trees,  easily  bent  like  a  straw, 
and  generally  about  twenty  inches  long.  The  stalks  had  the 
leaves,  which  are  small  and  straight,  still  fresh  and  living  on 
them,  which  leads  me  to  the  conclusion  that  this  plant  was 
selected  by  the  bird  to  prevent  rotting  and  mould  in  the 
building,  since  it  keeps  alive  for  a  long  time. 

"  The  refined  sense  of  the  bird  is  not  satisfied  with  building  a 
hut.  It  is  wonderful  to  find  that  it  has  the  same  ideas  as  a 
man ;  that  is  to  say,  that  what  pleases  the  one  gratifies  the 
other.  The  passion  for  flowers  and  gardens  is  a  sign  of  good 
taste  and  refinement.  I  discovered,  however,  that  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Mount  Arfak  did  not  follow  the  example  of  the  Ambly- 
omis,  for  their  houses  were  quite  inaccessible  from  dirt. 

"  Now  let  me  describe  the  garden  of  AmUyornis.  Before  the 
cottage  there  is  a  meadow  of  moss  ;  this  is  brought  to  the  spot 
and  kept  free  from  grass,  stones,  or  anything  which  would 
offend  the  eye.  On  this  green  turf,  flowers  and  fruit  of  bright 
colours  are  placed  so  as  to  form  a  pretty  little  garden.  The 
greater  part  of  the  decoration  is  collected  round  the  entrance  to 
the  arbour ;  and  it  would  appear  that  the  husband  offers  there 
"his  daily  gifts  to  his  wife.  The  objects  are  very  various,  but 
always  of  a  vivid  colour.  There  were  some  fruits  like  a  small- 
sized  apple ;  others  were  of  a  deep  yellow  colour  in  the  interior. 
I  saw  also  small  rosy  fruits,  and  beautiful  rosy  flowers  of  a 
splendid  new  Vaccinium.  There  were  also  fungi  and  mottled 
insects  placed  on  the  turf.  As  soon  as  the  objects  are  faded, 
they  are  moved  to  the  back  of  the  hut." 

The  first  specimens  of  the  Gardener-bird  which  were  described 
were  all  either  hens  or  immature  males,  which  are  dull  and 
'  unadorned,'  as  the  Latin  name  implies.  It  was  not  until 

J39 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

twenty  years  afterwards,  quite  recently,  when  the  adult  male 
was  discovered,  that  he  was  found  to  possess  an  enormous  crest 
of  brilliant  orange ;  he  is  still  called  by  naturalists  inoniata^ 
however,  though  his  baptismal  name,  like  that  of  many  other 
bipeds,  is  particularly  inappropriate. 

On  the  mountains  at  the  opposite,  that  is  to  say  the  south- 
east, end  of  the  island  of  New  Guinea,  other  species  of 
Gardener-birds  have  since  been  discovered,  and  in  these  also 
the  females  are  unadorned  and  the  males  have  beautiful  crests. 
One  of  these  birds  is  called  Aviblyornis  mmgravianus  because  it 
was  found  on  Mount  Musgrave.  Like  its  relatives,  it  is  a  lively 
and  keen-sighted  bird  and  very  shy,  so  that  a  great  deal  of 
patience  is  required  to  observe  it  at  play.  Mr.  Goodwin 
describes  its  bower  as  being  constructed  of  moss,  in  the  form  of 
a  fountain-basin.  The  rim  is  about  two  feet  high  from  the 
ground,  but  the  cup  is  quite  shallow,  so  that  the  bird  can  see 
what  is  going  on  in  the  neighbourhood  while  he  is  playing 
inside  it.  The  mossy  lining  is  beautifully  smooth  and  even, 
and  from  the  centre,  where  the  jet  of  water  would  be  in  a  real 
fountain,  there  springs  a  small  tree  on  which  the  bird  amuses 
himself  by  arranging  twigs,  uttering  meanwhile  the  clear,  sharp 
notes  of  his  song. 

During  the  return  journey,  while  on  Mount  Belford,  Mr. 
Goodwin  tells  us  that  the  member  of  his  party  from  whom  that 
mountain  takes  its  name  brought  into  camp  a  different  kind  of 
Bower-bird,  very  similar  to  the  Mount  Musgrave  bird,  but 
smaller.  It  was  a  specimen  of  the  Gardener-bird  known  as 
Amblyornis  subalaris,  and  Mr.  Goodwin  did  not  leave  the 
mountain  until  he  had  been  to  look  at  its  playground.  "  At  a 
short  distance  off,"  he  tells  us,  "  the  bower  from  the  back  looks 
like  a  cartload  of  sticks  rounded  on  the  top.  On  going  round 
to  the  front  I  saw  the  most  beautiful  building  ever  constructed 
by  a  bird,  to  which,  however,  my  poor  description  cannot  do 
justice.  The  edifice  was  dome-like,  only  half  covered  over,  and 
exposed  to  view  inside  a  ring  or  circus.  In  the  centre  of  this 

140 


PLAYGROUNDS   AND  PAVILIONS 

was  built  a  bank  of  moss,  decorated  with  flowers  and  seed,  out 
of  which  grew  a  small  tree  interlaced  with  sticks.  ...  I  was 
certainly  well  rewarded  for  my  trouble  on  this  occasion,  and  felt 
much  indebted  to  Mr.  Belford  for  having  shown  me  the  most 
interesting  sight  which  I  witnessed  during  the  whole  of  the 
expedition." 

The  charming  picture  which  Mr.  Vanderlyn  has  made  for  us 
will  give  you  a  better  idea  than  any  description  of  what  this 
wonderful  playhouse  is  like.     But  to  realise  fully  its  beauty 
you  must  know  that  the  floor  is  covered  with  a  carpet  of  the 
greenest  and  most  delicate  moss  ;  you  must  imagine  the  bright- 
ness of  the  moss-covered  pillar  in  the  centre,  gaily  decorated 
with   flowers ;  and,  finally,  you   must  picture  to  yourself  the 
bird's  crest  of  shining  gold,  and  the  glittering  wing-cases  of 
beetles  which  he  loves  to  have  among  his  toys;  and  then  I 
think  that  you  will  agree  that  the  life  of  a  bird  which  can  make 
and  possess  such  beautiful  things  must  be  very  romantic  indeed. 
One  other  Bower-bird  we  will  mention,  and  then  we  must 
take  leave  of  these  fascinating  creatures.     For  this,  the  Golden/ 
Bower-bird  (Prionodura  newtoniana\  we  must  return  to  Aus- 
tralia, where,  in  Queensland,  he  makes  his  home.     No  Bower- 
bird  is  more  beautiful,  and  none  more  clever.     He  is  clothed 
from  head  to  tail  in  golden-coloured  feathers,  and  bears  on  his 
head  a  broad  crest  of  the  same  bright  hue  ;  but  his  wife  is 
garbed  in  sober  plumage  of  olive-brown.     The  Lyre-bird  is  not 
a  more  accomplished  mimic.     He  will  croak  like  a  tree-frog ;  he 
will  utter  a  low,  soft,  musical  whistle  with  the  most  pathetic 
air ;  and  then  he  will  break  into  an  astonishing  variety  enter- 
tainment in  which  he  gives  imitations  of  all  his  neighbours. 
But  his  skill  is  not  confined  to  one  of  the  arts,  for  not  even  the 
beautiful  gardens  and  pavilions  of  the  New  Guinea  Gardener- 
bird  are  more  remarkable  than  the  elaborate  pleasure-grounds 
which  these  Queensland  birds  prepare. 

Around  two  trees,  or  a  tree  and  a  bush,  they  begin  by  erect- 
ing huge  piles  of  sticks,  heaping  them  up  in  the  form  of  a  cone 

141 


PLAYGROUNDS  AND   PAVILIONS 

or  pyramid  to  a  man's  height.  These  stick  pyramids  are  four 
or  five  feet  apart,  and  one  of  them  is  always  considerably 
higher  that  the  other.  The  birds  then  fetch  from  the  surround- 
ing scrub  long  pieces  of  the  thin,  flexible  stems  of  creepers,  and 
trail  them  from  one  heap  of  sticks  to  the  other,  in  such  quan- 
tities that  at  last  the  two  pillars  are  converted  into  a  great 
archway.  The  builders  next  turn  their  attention  to  the  decora- 
tions. In  the  woods  they  gather  tufts  of  white  moss  which  they 
fix  all  over  the  pillars  and  roof  of  the  structure,  and  last  of  all, 
bunches  of  green  berries,  like  wild  grapes,  which  are  hung 
in  clusters  from  the  top.  But  still  they  are  not  satisfied,  for  all 
around  their  great  bower  they  make  little  huts  by  bending 
together  the  strong  stems  of  standing  grass  and  roofing  them 
over  with  a  flat  thatch  of  slender  twigs,  until  at  last  the 
pleasure-ground  looks  exactly  like  a  miniature  model  of  a  native 
camp  with  a  beautiful  triumphal  arch  in  the  middle. 

Birds  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes  resort  to  this  place  of  amuse- 
ment. Young  and  old,  male  and  female,  they  pursue  each 
other  in  and  out  of  the  grassy  huts  and  through  and  over  the 
archway,  playing  merrily  to  their  hearts'  content. 


142 


CHAPTER  IX 
COURTSHIP 

Excess  of  bachelors  amongst  birds,  and  its  results— Arts  of  peace— Singing 
for  a  mate— The  meaning  of  song— Song  and  dance— Instrumental  music 
— The  drumming  of  Snipes— Courtship  flights— The  dalliance  of  Eagles- 
Antics  of  Game-birds — The  indifference  of  hens— Bustards  in  Spain — 
Coyness  and  provocation— Feminine  boldness  :  the  Northern  Phalarope 
— Good-humoured  rivalry  :  the  Flickers. 

IF  we  are  sufficiently  observant  we  may  find  something  to 
interest  us  in  the  habits  of  birds  at  all  times ;  or  at  all 
events  in  the  ways  of  wild  birds,  for  it  must  be  admitted 
that  birds  in  captivity  often  lose  a  great  deal  of  their  spirit  and 
energy  because  they  are  deprived  of  both  the  necessity  and  the 
opportunity  of  exercising  their  natural  powers.  In  the  case  of 
the  more  precocious  birds,  such  as  the  common  Fowl,  the  first 
days  of  life  after  they  have  escaped  from  the  egg  are,  I  incline 
to  think,  usually  the  most  interesting  and  wonderful  of  all;  but 
speaking  of  birds  in  general  there  are  two  periods  which  par- 
ticularly attract  attention.  These  are  the  time  of  wooing  and, 
a  little  later,  the  time  when  the  care  of  a  young  family  absorbs 
all  the  energies  of  the  attentive  parents.  As  a  rule  it  is  the 
female  who  is  seen  at  her  best  in  bringing  up  the  brood,  and 
the  male  during  courtship,  but  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  this 
is  so  in  all  cases. 

Nature  is  very  wise,  and  no  male  bird  remains  a  bachelor  if  he 
can  avoid  it,  nor  does  any  female  long  despise  the  attentions  of 
a  worthy  suitor.  But  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  there  are 
more  males  than  females  in  bird  society,  with  the  result  that  while 
every  hen  almost  certainly  obtains  a  mate,  great  numbers  of 

J43 


COURTSHIP 

cock-birds  fail  to  do  so.  Even  amongst  birds,  therefore,  the 
privilege  of  winning  a  wife  is  not  to  be  attained  without  some 
individual  merit,  and  often  not  without  strife. 

The  methods  by  which  the  male  bird  woos  her  whom  he 
wishes  to  make  his  partner  are  many,  and  very  different  amongst 
the  various  classes  of  birds.  What  we  usually  find  is,  that 
whatever  a  particular  kind  of  bird  excels  in  at  ordinary  times, 
he  does  especially  well  when  he  is  courting,  and  employs  as  a 
means  of  winning  the  object  of  his  desires.  He  exercises  to 
the  utmost  every  charm,  and  tries  to  exhibit  himself  in  the  best 
light  in  order  to  rival  his  fellows.  The  older  he  is,  and  the  more 
experienced,  the  more  skilful  and  confident  he  becomes  in  his 
wooing ;  his  energy  and  determination  increase  with  his  skill  in 
practising  the  arts  of  his  kind,  and  with  them  his  success  as  a 
wooer  increases. 

As  the  season  of  love  approaches,  the  song-bird  practises  his 
notes  and  perfects  his  song ;  he  sings  his  loudest  and  sweetest — 
or  if  his  voice  be  not  sweet,  his  harshest  and  hoarsest — but 
always,  no  doubt,  according  to  the  taste  of  the  species  to  which 
he  belongs,  his  best.     It  is  the  song-bird  which  can  most  afford 
to  rely  on  the  exercise  of  his  art  to  gain  a  mate.     Other  birds, 
far  more  than  he,  must  wander  from  place  to  place  seeking  her, 
but  a  song-bird  will  perch  where  he  can  be  heard  to  the  best 
advantage  and  endeavour  to  attract  her  from  afar  with  passion- 
ate melody.     He  expresses  all  his  spirit  and  strength  and  long- 
ing in  song,  and  when  at  last  the  female  answers  the  call,  his 
joy  and  exultation.     In  song  he  invites  her  to  come  to  him,  and 
dares  any  other  male  within  hearing  to  enter  into  rivalry  with 
him.  He  is  pleading,  imperious,  persuasive,  boastful,  triumphant. 
True  song  ought  perhaps  to  be  distinguished  from  the  call- 
notes,  danger-signals,  cries  of  alarm  or  challenge  and  defiance, 
and  so  forth,  which  are  uttered  by  birds,  though  it  is  some- 
times difficult  to  say  exactly  what  is  song  and  what  is  not.     The 
cry  of  the  Cuckoo,  for  example,  is  not  song  in  the  narrow  sense ; 
but  as  it  is  a  call-note  to  attract  a  mate  it  is  a  part  of  the  bird's 

144 


COURTSHIP 

courtship.      It    is  never   uttered  except  during  the  pairing 
season. 

Darwin  considered  that  bird-song  originated  as  a  method  of 
courtship,  and  he  was  probably  right,  though  some  naturalists 
think  he  was  mistaken.  They  point  out  that  many  birds  sing 
long  before  and  long  after  the  mating  season,  at  times  when 
there  is  no  thought  of  courtship;  but  that  does  not  prove 
that  the  original  object  of  song  was  not  to  win  a  mate,  any 
more  than  the  fact  that  birds  fly  when  there  is  no  necessity  for 
them  to  do  so,  either  to  seek  food  or  to  escape  an  enemy,  proves 
that  those  were  not  the  causes  in  which  flight  originated. 

All  the  higher  animals  do  things  in  play  which  they  are  not 
obliged  to  do  at  the  time,  but  which  are  at  some  time  or  other 
necessary  for  their  existence,  and  they  enjoy  performing  these 
actions.  So  many  birds  practise  singing,  and  take  pleasure  in 
it,  at  times  when  song  is  not  of  any  particular  immediate  use  to 
them.  The  Redbreast  and  the  Wren  are  familiar  examples  of 
birds  that  sing  all  the  year  round  except  during  hard  frost  and 
at  the  time  of  moulting.  But  the  consummate  master  of  song, 
the  Nightingale,  loses  his  singing  voice  as  soon  as  his  chicks  are 
hatched ;  the  passionate  melody  which  thrilled  us  while  he  was 
courting  his  mate  and  entertaining  her  at  the  time  of  brooding 
is  exchanged  for  a  guttural  croak  of  alarm  and  anxiety,  and  if 
all  go  well  he  sings  no  more  until  the  following  spring.  If  all  go 
well,  we  say ;  for  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  if  any  accident 
deprive  him  of  nest  or  little  ones  at  this  early  time,  he  once 
more  recovers  his  singing  voice  and  so  charms  his  mate  that  she 
is  content  to  undertake  again  the  toil  of  building  a  new  nest 
and  to  endure  the  weariness  of  brooding  once  more ;  and  that 
surely  teaches  us  the  true  original  purpose  and  meaning  of  song. 
There  are  those  who  believe  that  a  bird's  song  is  merely  an 
expression  of  his  superfluous  vitality  and  enjoyment  of  life;  but 
though  joyousness,  and  other  emotions  too,  do  find  utterance 
in  melody,  we  must  still  consider  song  as  being  chiefly  and  pre- 
eminently an  act  of  courtship. 

K  145 


COURTSHIP 

Sometimes  several  males  will  sing  in  rivalry  for  the  favour  of 
the  same  female.  Skylarks  often  do  so.  These  birds  pair  in 
early  spring,  when  the  cold  March  winds  are  drying  up  the 
broad,  open  lands  where  they  love  to  make  their  nests,  and  the 
first  flowers  are  beginning  to  make  the  hedgerows  bright  with 
colour.  Frequently  at  this  time  a  female  may  be  seen  flying 
swiftly  through  the  air  pursued  by  several  males,  who  toy  with 
her,  flutter  round  her,  and  burst  into  snatches  of  joyous  song. 
Hither  and  thither  they  dart,  until  at  last  she  takes  refuge  in 
the  herbage  and  crouches  low.  Soon  she  is  discovered  by  one  of 
her  suitors,  who  hovers  above  her  singing  sweetly,  or  alights  and 
runs  before  her  with  raised  crest,  trying  in  various  ways  to  win 
her  favour.  Again  she  takes  wing,  and  the  pursuit  is  renewed 
in  the  same  playful,  joyous  manner.  Sometimes  a  male  actively 
resents  the  presence  of  rivals,  and  they  begin  to  chase  each 
other  until,  perhaps,  the  arts  of  peace  give  place  to  active  warfare 
and  the  strongest  and  boldest  remains  in  possession  of  the  field. 

It  has  been  noticed  that  some  of  our  songsters,  of  which  the 
Redbreast  is  one,  at  certain  moments  in  their  wooing,  exchange 
their  loud,  clear,  rippling  song  for  low,  vibrating  notes  which 
can  scarcely  be  heard  a  few  yards  away.  This  whispered  melody 
is  uttered  only  when  the  mate  is  perched  close  by,  and  is  usually 
accompanied  by  bowing  and  posturing,  or  by  quick  little  danc- 
ing steps. 

Unlike  the  Skylark,  most  of  our  true  melodists  sit  still  on 
their  perch  while  singing;  but  among  foreign  birds  there  are 
many  whose  courtship  song  is  accompanied  by  antics,  though  it 
is  seldom  that  the  song  of  such  birds  is  remarkable  for  its  sweet- 
ness. Many  of  the  family  of  American  birds  which  are  com- 
monly known  as  Troupials  and  Grackles,  Starling-like  birds 
with  some  of  the  character  of  our  Buntings,  indulge  in  such 
antics,  and  especially  the  Cowpen-birds,  whose  courtship  habits 
have  been  described  by  Mr.  Hudson.  The  male  Screaming 
Cow-bird  of  La  Plata  puffs  out  his  plumage  like  a  strutting 
Turkey-cock  and  hops  briskly  up  and  down  his  perch  in  a  lively 

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COURTSHIP 

dance,  with  wings  and  tail  spread  out  and  trailing  low,  while  he 
utters  a  hollow-sounding  note  which  ends  in  a  sharp  bell-like 
ring.  The  female  replies  with  an  excited  scream,  and  the  dance 
ends.  The  common  Cow-bird,  which  has  rich  violet  plumage, 
puffs  out  his  glossy  feathers  and  rapidly  flutters  his  wings 
during  his  song,  which  begins  on  a  series  of  deep  internal 
sounds  followed  by  clear,  ringing,  musical  notes.  He  then 
suddenly  leaves  his  perch  and  flutters  away  over  the  ground  like 
a  huge  moth  for  twenty  or  thirty  yards,  when  he  turns  aside 
and  circles  round  the  female,  singing  loudly  all  the  time  and 
"  hedging  her  in  with  melody." 

Birds  which  have  no  singing  voice  use  such  vocal  powers  as 
they  may  possess  with  equal  effect  in  their  wooing.  The  Great 
Black-backed  Gull  (Larus  marinus)  fills  the  air  with  his  harsh, 
laughing  cries  when  the  flocks  assemble  in  the  early  summer, 
until  the  rocks  echo  again,  and  no  doubt  impresses  his  mate  as 
much  by  his  furious  shouting — if  we  may  use  the  word  in 
speaking  of  a  bird — as  by  his  more  or  less  graceful  bowing  as 
he  swims  around  her.  Even  the  male  Swan  manages  to  croon  a 
little  love-song  of  a  sort.  With  wings  expanded  and  head 
held  proudly  erect,  he  places  himself  opposite  his  mate  and 
utters  a  curious  little  double  note,  the  first  part  of  which  is 
very  short  and  glides  inta  the  second  part,  a  semitone  higher. 
The  female  responds  with  a  similar  cry  half  a  note  lower. 
Fortunately  they  do  not  both  sing  at  the  same  time ! 

The  birds  which  do  not  excel  as  vocalists,  but  produce  what 
Darwin  referred  to  as  instrumental  music,  practise  their  art 
with  great  vigour  at  the  season  of  pairing.  The  Snipe  'drums' 
his  loudest;  the  Nuthatch  makes  such  a  clatter  with  his  bill 
against  a  dead  bough  that  he  can  be  heard  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  off;  the  Woodpecker  hammers  with  all  his  might ;  and 
the  clapping  of  the  Stork  can  be  heard  when  the  bird  himself  is 
so  far  away  as  to  be  invisible.  Other  birds  produce  all  kinds  of 
strange  noises  by  means  of  their  quill  feathers  or  by  beating 
with  their  wings. 

147 


COURTSHIP 

The  '  drumming '  or  '  bleating '  of  the  Snipe  was  long  a 
puzzle  to  naturalists  and  sportsmen,  for  nobody  could  explain 
satisfactorily  how  the  sound  was  produced.  The  bird  flies  to  a 
great  height,  and  after  zigzagging  about  for  a  little  while 
descends  to  earth  at  a  terrific  speed,  with  tail  outspread  and 
wings  a-quiver ;  and  it  is  then  that  the  strange  humming  sound 
is  heard.  During  the  descent  the  two  outer  tail-feathers  are 
spread  out  beyond  the  rest.  These  feathers  are  of  a  peculiar 
shape,  and  it  has  been  ascertained  that  if  they  be  fixed  firmly  in 
a  cork,  attached  to  a  short  stick  on  the  end  of  a  string,  and 
whirled  round,  a  typical  *  drumming '  is  produced.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  in  the  living  bird  it  is  similarly  caused  by  rapid 
movement  of  these  feathers  through  the  air  during  the  earth- 
ward plunge.  While  giving  this  instrumental  performance  the 
bird  utters  calls  which  sound  like  tinker,  linker,  tinker,  and  is 
answered  by  a  quick  little  djepp,  djepp,  djepp  in  a  different 
key. 

The  Double  or  Solitary  Snipe  (Scolopax  major),  which  visits 
Great  Britain  in  small  numbers  every  autumn,  drums  while  on 
the  ground  by  throwing  back  its  head  almost  on  to  its  back 
and  rapidly  opening  and  shutting  its  beak  like  a  Stork,  the 
result  being  a  noise  which  resembles  that  caused  by  running 
one's  finger  along  the  edge  of  a  comb. 

Certain  small  perching  birds  of  South  America  called  Mana- 
kins  have  some  of  the  secondary  wing-feathers  in  the  male  of 
an  extraordinary  form,  with  a  solid  horny  lump  on  the  shaft, 
and  give  remarkable  instrumental  performances.  One  species, 
Manacus  candcei,  begins  with  a  sharp  sound  like  the  crack  of  a 
whip,  following  it  up  with  a  harsh  rattle  like  the  turn  of  a  key 
when  winding  a  clock.  Rattle  and  snap  and  whirr  and  whizz 
are  variously  combined  in  the  courtship  of  other  members  of 
this  curious  family,  till  it  seems  hardly  possible  that  so  much 
noise  can  be  produced  by  birds  so  small. 

Another  South  American  bird,  one  of  the  Guans  (Penelope), 
rushes  down  through  the  air  with  outstretched  wings,  which  give 

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COURTSHIP 

forth  a  crashing  sound  like  the  falling  of  a  tree.  The  Guans 
are  Game-birds ;  other  members  of  the  order  produce  curious 
sounds  in  various  ways — by  striking  their  wings  together  or 
violently  beating  the  air  with  them,  and  so  on. 

For  the  present  we  will  leave  the  musicians,  both  vocal  and 
instrumental,  and  consider  how  the  birds  which  are  especially 
remarkable  for  their  powers  of  flight  conduct  their  courtship. 
Foremost  amongst  these  are  the  Birds-of-Prey,  nearly  all  of 
which,  except  Owls  and  some  Falcons,  join  with  their  mates  in 
wonderful  aerial  dances.  Eagles,  Peregrines,  Kestrels,  and 
Buzzards  circle  round  and  round  each  other  and  ring  up  to  the 
sky,  where  they  perform  marvellous  tricks  of  flight,  whirling  in 
their  giddy  course  for  hours  at  a  time  until,  having  sufficiently 
displayed  the  power  of  wing  which  is  so  important  to  them  in 
making  provision  for  a  hungry  family,  they  glide  to  a  perch 
and  practise  other  arts.  But  they  are  never  so  majestic  as 
when  in  flight,  and  even  the  mighty  Condor  looks  an  awkward 
creature  when,  his  head  bowed  and  wings  spread  wide,  he  hops 
round  his  mate  with  clumsy  little  steps,  making  strange  mur- 
muring sounds. 

The  courtship  flight  of  a  pair  of  Eagles  has  often  been 
described.  Brehm,  writing  of  the  Bateleur  Eagle  of  Africa, 
speaks  of  it  as  "  an  incomparable  mountebank  performance  in 
the  air,  a  bewildering  acrobatic  display,  which  seems  to  unite  in 
itself  all  the  arts  of  flight  practised  by  all  the  other  Birds-of- 
Prey."  Perhaps  we  get  the  finest  picture  of  all  in  Walt 
Whitman's  description  of  the  dalliance  of  Eagles  "high  in 
space  together1' — 

The  clinching  interlocking  claws,  a  living,  fierce,  gyrating  wheel, 
Four  beating  wings,  two  beaks,  a  swirling  mass  tight  grappling, 
In  tumbling  turning  clustering  loops,  straight  downward  falling, 
Till  o'er  the  river  pois'd,  the  twain  yet  one,  a  moment's  lull, 
A  motionless  still  balance  in  the  air,  then  parting,  talons  loosing, 
Upward  again  on  slow-firm  pinions  slanting,  their  separate  diverse 

flight, 
She  hers,  he  his,  pursuing. 

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COURTSHIP 

Reading  it,  we  can  almost  hear  "  the  sudden  muffled  sound  " 
and  see  the  mad,  tumultuous,  downward  rush,  arrested  at  the 
very  moment  when  it  seems  that  both  birds  must  inevitably  be 
plunged  together  into  the  river  below. 

The  smaller  Birds-of-Prey  are  hardly  less  wonderful  in  their 
gambols.  Watch  a  pair  of  Harriers  starting  on  such  a  flight. 
It  begins  tamely  enough,  the  female  flying  on  ahead  as  though 
quite  unconscious  that  she  is  attended,  followed  by  the  male, 
who  appears  to  be  only  half  willing  to  escort  her.  But  in  a 
moment  all  that  changes.  He  dashes  forward,  overtakes  her, 
sweeps  round  and  round,  and  then  deliberately  turns  his  back 
upon  her  and  soars  to  the  clouds  on  hurrying  pinions.  Sud- 
denly, at  a  great  height,  he  turns  right  over  and  with  folded 
wings  shoots  head  downwards,  like  an  arrow,  towards  his  com- 
panion. His  wings  fly  open  again,  and  once  more  he  is  dashing 
round  and  round  her,  carried  on  by  the  tremendous  speed  of 
that  plunge  from  the  clouds.  At  last  she  can  resist  the  invita- 
tion no  longer;  her  unresponsive  mood  is  past,  and  she  joins 
merrily  in  his  gambols. 

Other  birds  less  powerful  in  flight  than  the  Birds-of-Prey,  but 
some  of  them  hardly  less  skilful,  feel  the  same  impulse  to  use 
their  wings  in  courtship.  The  Swallow  who  has  been  perched 
close  beside  his  mate  warbling  his  faint  little  song  suddenly 
leaves  his  perch  and,  followed  at  once  by  the  female,  dashes  off' 
with  her  in  a  mazy  flight,  singing  as  he  goes.  Or  at  dusk, 
when  the  Nightjar  makes  his  strange,  whirring  sounds  as  he 
crouches  lengthwise  on  a  bough,  his  mate  comes  to  his  calling, 
and  together  they  dance  through  the  air  in  beautiful  curves. 

The  cries  produced  by  members  of  the  Nightjar  family  are 
very  curious.  In  America  the  best  known  of  these  cries  is  the 
"  whip-poor-will "  uttered  by  the  bird  of  that  name.  Captain 
Bendire,  in  his  book  on  North  American  birds,  tells  how  he 
witnessed  a  most  amusing  performance  of  a  pair  of  Whip- 
poor-wills  whose  trysting-place  was  a  heap  of  sand  just  beside 
an  outhouse.  One  evening  when  he  happened  to  be  in  the 

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COURTSHIP 

shed  soon  after  sundown  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the 
familiar  Whip-poor-will  cry  uttered  quite  close  at  hand. 
Peering  through  a  small  opening,  he  saw  the  bird  waddling 
over  the  sand-heap  in  an  excited  manner,  so  much  interested  in 
its  own  vocal  performance  that  it  did  not  discover  it  was  being 
watched.  The  call  was  repeated  with  such  rapidity  that  the 
sound  issued  from  the  bird's  great  gaping  mouth  almost  in  one 
continuous  roll.  In  a  few  seconds  another  bird  appeared  and 
joined  the  first ;  the  new  arrival  was  a  female,  and  she  at  once 
lowered  her  head  and  answered  the  impatient  calling  with  a  low 
"gaw-gaw-gaw"  of  endearment.  The  male  sidled  up  to  her 
and  for  a  moment  their  bills  touched ;  but  then  she  began  to 
move  slowly  aside,  followed  closely  by  her  mate.  Presently, 
however,  the  movement  was  reversed — he  became  coy,  and  she 
followed ;  and  so  on,  from  minute  to  minute,  bold  and  coy  by 
turns,  until  the  house-dog,  an  inveterate  enemy  of  all  Whip- 
poor-wills,  appeared  on  the  scene  and  put  the  lovers  to  flight. 
On  subsequent  evenings  they  did  not  arrive  so  early  and  so  were 
not  seen  again,  though  fresh  tracks  in  the  sand  showed  that 
they  continued  to  make  the  same  spot  their  place  of  meeting. 

The  courtship  dances  are  often  wild,  ecstatic  performances 
accompanied  by  strange  sounds,  and  ending  in  a  mad  whirl  in 
concert  or  in  a  transport  of  excitement  which  makes  the  birds 
oblivious  to  what  is  taking  place  around  them. 

The  Game-birds  are  the  most  famous  of  bird-dancers,  and 
nearly  all  of  them  perform  some  antics  or  other  from  time  to 
time.  Even  in  the  poultry-yard  we  see  the  Cock  showing  off 
before  his  wives,  strutting  proudly  hither  and  thither,  crowing 
and  flapping  his  wings.  The  Turkey  is  a  more  finished  per- 
former ;  as  he  dances  about  with  tail  widely  spread  and  trailing 
wings  he  appears  the  very  personification  of  conscious  pride, 
though  in  this  respect  he  is  far  surpassed  by  the  Peacock.  The 
way  in  which  a  Peacock  approaches  his  lady-love  is  peculiar. 
Placing  himself  at  some  distance  from  her,  he  erects  his  train 
in  a  gorgeous  fan  and  then,  seizing  a  favourable  opportunity, 


COURTSHIP 

rushes  towards  her  backwards  until,  arrived  within  a  foot  or  so, 
he  suddenly  whirls  round  and  tries  to  overwhelm  her  with  the 
glory  of  his  plumage.  His  display,  however,  is  not  received 
with  any  obvious  signs  of  admiration ;  on  the  contrary,  the 
modest  hen  remains  conspicuously  indifferent,  or  appears  so, 
even  when  the  sudden  transformation  is  emphasised  by  an  ear- 
splitting  scream.  Both  Peacock  and  Turkey  produce  music  of 
the  instrumental  kind  during  their  performance,  the  Turkey 
by  scraping  his  quills  along  the  ground,  the  Peacock  by 
rattling  his  together,  with  a  sound  like  the  pattering  of  rain  on 
leaves,  as  he  turns  towards  his  partner. 

The  courtship  of  Reinhardfs  Ptarmigan  (Lagopus  rupestris 
feinhardtt)  of  Greenland  and  Labrador  is  a  very  eccentric  per- 
formance. Having  discovered  an  eligible  partner,  he  begins  to 
run  around  her  with  tail  spread  and  trailing  wings ;  as  his 
ardour  increases  he  ruffles  every  feather  of  his  body  and,  with 
outstretched  neck  and  breast  pressing  upon  the  ground,  thrusts 
himself  along,  uttering  a  curious  growling  sound.  He  writhes 
and  twists  his  neck  about  in  a  wonderful  manner,  and  at  last  in 
his  excitement  performs  the  most  astonishing  antics,  leaping 
in  the  air  with  extraordinary  vigour,  and  even  rolling  over  and 
over. 

Behaviour  quite  so  violent  as  this  is  rare,  but  grotesque 
postures  and  contortions  are  seen  in  many  species,  especially  in 
those  which  have  some  peculiar  decoration  to  display.  Such 
birds  are  immediately  prompted  to  put  themselves  into  the 
most  showy  attitude  by  the  presence  of  the  female  or  a  rival, 
or  even  that  of  a  stranger.  Crests  and  plumes  are  raised,  wings 
or  tail  spread,  and  various  other  means  adopted  to  make  any 
striking  feature  as  conspicuous  as  possible.  The  result  some- 
times appears  to  us  ridiculous  in  the  extreme,  but  there  is  little 
doubt  that  the  female  is,  as  a  rule,  much  impressed  by  the 
display  of  so  much  finery. 

Occasionally,  however,  she  seems  to  be  singularly  indifferent 
to  the  personal  charms  of  her  wooer,  be  they  displayed  never 

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COURTSHIP 

so  bravely.  You  may  frequently  observe  this  amongst  domestic 
Pigeons.  Watch  a  group  of  these  birds  picking  up  grain 
which  has  been  scattered  for  them  upon  the  ground ;  it  is  very 
likely  that  before  long  you  will  see  a  handsome  cock-bird  begin 
to  pay  court  to  a  sober-looking  hen.  He  puffs  out  his  breast 
and  throat  to  make  himself  look  imposing  and  to  display  the 
glossy  iridescent  feathers  to  the  best  advantage ;  meanwhile  he 
coos  softly  and  bows  time  after  time  to  the  quiet  little  hen, 
running  after  her  with  quick  steps  and  doing  his  very  best  to 
attract  her  attention.  She  for  her  part  seems  quite  indifferent ; 
she  is  far  too  busy  picking  up  grains  of  food  to  trouble  about 
the  fussy  courtier ;  she  seems  to  show  by  her  attitude  that  she 
thinks  him  a  tiresome  fellow,  and  cannot  be  bothered  ;  and  will 
he  please  go  away  ?  But  he  is  far  from  being  discouraged,  and 
at  last  she  runs  forward  a  few  steps  to  escape  persecution ;  but 
he  makes  a  flank  movement,  runs  round  in  a  little  quarter-circle, 
and  is  once  more  in  front  of  her,  bowing,  cooing,  trailing  his 
outspread  tail  along  the  ground,  and  using  all  his  arts  with  un- 
diminished  zeal.  It  is  most  often  in  the  spring  and  summer 
that  one  may  see  Pigeons  behaving  in  this  manner,  but  quite 
recently,  in  a  London  street,  I  observed  the  same  little  comedy 
being  enacted  amidst  heavy  rain  in  the  middle  of  December. 
Neither  the  storm  nor  the  season  could  affect  the  wooer's 
devotion. 

A  few  years  ago,  when  in  Spain,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Seville,  I  was  even  more  impressed  by  the  efforts  of  a  male  bird 
to  make  himself  attractive  while  the  female  remained  absolutely 
unmoved.  On  a  broad,  open  tract  of  cultivated  land,  less  than 
half  a  mile  from  the  road,  a  number  of  large  birds  were  quietly 
feeding.  With  the  aid  of  glasses  I  was  able  to  make  out  that 
it  was  a  small  party  of  Bustards — the  Great  Bustard  (Otis 
tarda\  which  used,  long  ago,  to  frequent  the  downs,  wolds,  and 
plains  in  England,  but  which  has  now  been  extinct  as  a 
native  species  for  about  three-quarters  of  a  century.  Perhaps 
it  was  never  very  common  here,  though  there  are  records  of  it 

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COURTSHIP 

having  been  at  one  time  hunted  with  greyhounds  on  Newmarket 
Heath.  Even  in  the  sixteenth  century,  however,  when  Bustards 
were  a  favourite  dish  at  great  feasts,  they  were  considered  articles 
of  special  luxury  and  ranked  in  value  with  such  birds  as  Swans 
and  Cranes.  But  in  Spain  they  are  still  fairly  common,  and 
great  was  my  delight  at  having  an  opportunity  of  watching 
them  in  their  wild  state. 

The  party  consisted  of  four  females  and  a  male.  The  hen 
Bustard  is  considerably  smaller  than  the  cock,  which  is  a  fine 
bird,  between  three  and  four  feet  in  length  from  the  tip  of  the 
bill  to  the  end  of  the  tail,  and  has  a  very  stately  and  con- 
spicuous appearance  on  the  open  country  which  he  frequents. 
His  colour  is  not  very  remarkable,  pale  grey  and  white  pre- 
dominating ;  but  the  back  is  beautifully  barred  with  russet  and 
black,  and  during  the  springtime  a  band  of  deep  tawny  brown 
sweeps  down  from  either  shoulder  over  the  breast.  His  general 
aspect  is  made  more  striking  by  a  beard  of  slender  greyish- 
white  feathers  which  spring  out  stiffly  on  either  side  of  the  chin. 
While  I  was  observing  the  little  group  of  birds,  the  male  left 
off  feeding  and  presently,  after  strutting  to  and  fro  for  a  short 
time,  with  head  and  tail  both  held  proudly  erect,  he  placed  him- 
self in  the  very  remarkable  attitude  adopted  by  these  birds 
when  '  showing  off.'  The  breast  and  upper  part  of  the  throat 
are  puffed  out  to  their  utmost  extent ;  at  the  same  time  the 
head  is  drawn  far  back  and  buried  between  the  shoulders,  while 
the  tail  is  turned  forwards  flat  upon  the  back,  until  head  and 
tail  almost  meet  between  the  wings.  The  wings  themselves  are 
then  drooped  from  the  shoulder,  the  ends  of  the  long  flight 
feathers  are  hitched  up  on  the  back  across  the  tail,  while 
the  shorter  feathers  turn  stiffly  upwards  and  almost  completely 
hide  the  head,  the  *  beard '  alone  being  seen  standing  smartly 
up  between  them.  The  result  of  all  these  curious  contortions 
is  to  display  to  the  fullest  extent  the  white  feathers  of  the 
upper  part  of  the  wings  and  those  under  the  tail. 

In  this  strange  posture  my  Bustard  strutted  up  and  down 

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before  his  wives  for  fully  five  minutes,  but  not  one  of  them  paid 
any  attention  to  his  performance  or  allowed  herself  to  be 
diverted  from  her  immediate  occupation  of  feeding.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  he  seemed  suddenly  to  decide  that  perhaps  they 
were  right,  after  all,  and  that  in  any  case  it  was  not  much  use 
trying  to  show  them  what  a  very  fine  figure  of  a  bird  he  was  if 
none  would  admire  him,  for  his  head  came  up  with  a  jerk,  his 
wings  were  folded  close  to  his  body  again,  his  breast  gently  sub- 
sided, and  resuming  his  ordinary  appearance  he  began  once 
more  quietly  feeding  with  the  others. 

Bustards  are  very  wary  birds  and  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to 
get  quite  near  to  them,  but  like  many  other  wild  creatures  they 
appear  to  have  a  curious  power  of  discrimination,  so  that  while 
a  sportsman  carrying  a  gun  may  find  it  impossible  to  get  with- 
hi  range  of  them,  they  do  not  so  readily  take  alarm  at  the 
passage  of  an  ordinary  wayfarer. 

A  smaller  kind  of  Bustard  known  as  the  Florikin  (Sypheotis 
bengalensis),  which  is  one  of  the  most  valued  Game-birds  in  all 
parts  of  India,  where  it  is  frequently  killed  during  a  tiger- 
hunt  and  is  occasionally  taken  by  the  help  of  the  Falcon,  is 
known  to  adopt  somewhat  unusual  and  remarkable  tactics  to 
attract  a  mate.  The  male  bird  rises,  with  hurried  flapping  of 
the  wings,  straight  up  into  the  air,  pausing  from  time  to  time 
for  a  few  seconds  and  then  flying  a  little  higher.  While  doing 
this  he  raises  his  crest,  puffs  out  his  neck,  and  makes  a  peculiar 
kind  of  humming  noise.  The  performance  is  repeated  several 
times  until  a  hen  obeys  the  summons  and  approaches  from  the 
thick  grass,  where  they  live  apart.  On  her  arrival  he  begins  to 
entertain  her  by  showing  off  in  much  the  same  manner  as  a 
Turkey-cock.  The  male  Willow-Grouse  in  North  America 
practises  similar  flights ;  his  call,  however,  is  often  accepted  as 
a  challenge  by  some  rival  male,  and  fierce  combats  follow. 

A  very  large  number  of  birds  puff  out  their  feathers  when 
courting  in  order  to  make  themselves  appear  as  big  and  im- 
portant as  possible ;  even  the  tiny  Blue  Titmouse  swells  himself 


COURTSHIP 

out  to  almost  twice  his  usual  size  in  the  intervals  of  sailing 
from  the  top  of  one  slender  spray  to  another  amongst  the  trees 
and  bushes — a  method  of  flight  quite  different  from  his 
ordinary  movement  from  place  to  place — when  dallying  with 
his  mate. 

We  have  seen  that  it  is  not  unusual  for  the  female  to  receive 
the  attentions  of  her  wooer  at  first  with  apparent  indiffer- 
ence, if  not  annoyance.  In  some  cases  she  at  length  appears 
slowly  to  become  aware  of  his  existence,  to  display  a  sort  of 
languid  interest  in  his  proceedings,  to  be  willing  to  listen, 
without  prejudice,  to  what  he  has  to  say,  to  spare  a  moment  for 
a  critical  glance  at  his  antics.  Sometimes  on  hearing  the  sound 
of  a  performing  male  she  may  even  deign  to  approach  and  stand 
by,  hidden  in  the  bushes,  an  interested  spectator;  she  may  utter 
little  cries — perhaps  her  way  of  saying  "Bravo!" — to  incite  him 
to  further  efforts,  and  may  eventually,  without  reserve,  seek  his 
company. 

In  other  cases,  however,  she  is  more  coy  and  takes  to  flight — 
whether  in  earnest  or  not,  who  can  say  ?  Though  her  retreat 
be  swift  and  energetic  at  first,  it  is  often  continued  with  little 
persistence,  and  it  seems  as  if  she  wished  to  be  overtaken. 

Dr.  Groos  says :  "  The  female  Cuckoo  answers  the  call  of  her 
mate  with  an  alluring  laugh  that  excites  him  to  the  utmost, 
but  it  is  long  before  she  gives  herself  up  to  him.  A  mad  chase 
through  the  tree  tops  ensues,  during  which  she  constantly 
incites  him  with  that  mocking  call,  till  the  poor  fellow  is  fairly 
driven  crazy.  The  female  Kingfisher  often  torments  her 
devoted  lover  for  half  a  day,  coming  and  calling  him,  and 
then  taking  to  flight.  But  she  never  lets  him  out  of  her  sight 
the  while,  looking  back  as  she  flies  and  measuring  her  speed, 
and  wheeling  back  when  he  suddenly  gives  up  the  pursuit. 
The  Bower-bird  leads  her  mate  a  chase  up  and  down  their 
skilfully  built  pleasure-house,  and  many  other  birds  behave  in 
a  similar  way.  The  male  must  exercise  all  his  arts  .  .  .  before  her 
reluctance  is  overcome.  She  leads  him  on  from  limb  to  limb, 

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COURTSHIP 

from  tree  to  tree,  constantly  eluding  his  eager  pursuit  until  it 
seems  that  the  tantalising  change  from  allurement  to  resistance 
must  include  an  element  of  mischievous  playfulness." 

There  are  birds,  however,  amongst  which  the  hens  are  so  far 
from  being  coy  and  retiring  that  they  are  actually  the  ones  who 
make  all  the  advances  in  courtship.  In  such  cases  we  find  that, 
contrary  to  what  is  the  general  rule  amongst  birds,  the  hen  is 
the  finer  and  better  looking  of  the  pair.  As  an  example  of 
these  we  will  take  the  Phalaropes. 

The  Phalaropes  are  wading  birds,  and  they  nest  in  the 
Arctic  regions,  where  they  are  extremely  tame.  In  many 
species  of  waders — perhaps  in  all — the  hen-bird  is  dis- 
tinguished by  her  larger  size  and  longer  bill,  but  her  superiority 
seldom  extends  to  plumage.  Among  the  Phalaropes,  however, 
the  females  are  not  only  larger,  but  brighter  in  colour  than 
their  partners,  and  in  accordance  with  the  general  custom 
amongst  birds  in  such  cases  they  take  the  lead  in  courtship. 
Here  is  the  interesting  account  of  their  proceedings  given  by 
Mr.  E.  W.  Nelson,  the  well-known  American  field  naturalist, 
who  observed  the  Red-necked  or  Northern  Phalarope  (Phala- 
ropus  hyperboreus)  in  Alaska. 

"  As  summer  approaches  on  the  Arctic  shores  and  the  coast 
of  Bering  Sea,  the  numberless  pools,  until  now  hidden  under 
a  snowy  covering,  become  bordered  or  covered  with  water ;  the 
mud  about  their  edges  begins  to  soften,  and  through  the  water 
the  melting  ice  at  the  bottom  looks  pale  green.  The  Ducks 
and  the  Geese  fill  the  air  with  their  loud  resounding  cries,  and 
the  rapid  wing-strokes  of  arriving  and  departing  flocks  add  a 
heavy  bass  to  the  chorus  which  greets  the  opening  of  another 
glad  season  in  the  wilds  of  the  cheerless  north.  Amid  this 
loud-tongued  multitude  suddenly  appears  the  graceful,  fairy- 
like  form  of  the  Northern  Phalarope.  Perhaps,  as  the  hunter 
sits  by  the  border  of  a  secluded  pool  still  half  covered  with 
snow  and  ice,  a  pair  of  slight  wings  flit  before  him,  and  there, 
riding  on  the  water,  scarcely  making  a  ripple,  floats  this  charm- 

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ing  and  elegant  bird.  It  glides  hither  and  thither  on  the 
water,  apparently  drifted  by  its  fancy,  and  skims  about  the 
pool  like  an  autumn  leaf  wafted  before  the  playful  zephyrs  on 
some  embosomed  lakelet  in  the  forest.  The  delicate  tints  and 
slender,  fragile  form,  combining  grace  of  colour  and  outline 
with  a  peculiarly  dainty  elegance  of  motion,  render  this  the 
most  lovely  and  attractive  bird  amongst  its  handsome  con- 
geners. 

"...  In  the  last  few  days  of  May  and  June  they  are  on 
hand  in  full  force  and  ready  to  set  about  the  season's  cares. 
Every  pool  now  has  from  one  to  several  pairs  of  these  birds.  .  .  . 
The  female  ...  is  much  more  richly  coloured  than  the  male, 
and  possesses  all  the  'rights'  demanded  by  the  most  radical 
reformers.  As  the  season  comes  on  ...  the  dull-coloured  male 
moves  about  the  pool  apparently  heedless  of  the  surrounding 
females.  Such  stoical  indifference  usually  appears  too  much  for 
the  feelings  of  some  of  the  fair  ones  to  bear.  A  female  coyly 
glides  close  to  him  and  bows  her  head  in  pretty  submissiveness, 
but  he  turns  away,  pecks  at  a  bit  of  food  and  moves  off;  she 
follows,  and  he  quickens  his  speed,  but  in  vain  ;  he  is  her  choice, 
and  she  proudly  arches  her  neck,  and  in  many  circles  passes 
and  repasses  close  before  the  harassed  bachelor.  He  turns  his 
breast  first  to  one  side,  then  to  the  other,  as  though  to  escape, 
but  there  is  his  gentle  wooer  ever  pressing  her  suit  before  him. 
Frequently  he  takes  flight  to  another  part  of  the  pool,  but  all 
to  no  purpose.  If  with  affected  indifference  he  tries  to  feed, 
she  swims  along  side  by  side,  almost  touching  him,  and  at 
intervals  rises  on  wing  above  him,  and,  poised  a  foot  or  two 
over  his  back,  makes  a  half-dozen  quick,  sharp  wing-strokes, 
producing  a  series  of  sharp,  whistling  noises  in  rapid  succession. 

"In  the  course  of  time  it  is  said  that  water  will  wear  the 
hardest  rock,  and  it  is  certain  that  time  and  importunity  have 
their  full  effect  upon  the  male  of  this  Phalarope,  and  soon 
all  are  comfortably  married.  .  .  .  About  June  1  the  dry, 
rounded  side  of  a  little  knoll,  near  some  small  pond,  has  four 

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dark,  heavily  marked  eggs  laid  in  a  slight  hollow,  upon  what- 
ever lining  the  spot  affords,  or,  more  rarely,  upon  a  few  dry 
straws  and  grass-blades,  brought  and  loosely  laid  together  by 
the  birds.  Here  the  captive  male  is  introduced  to  his  new 
duties,  and  spends  half  his  time  on  the  eggs,  while  the  female 
keeps  about  the  pool  close  by.  In  due  time  the  young  are 
hatched  and  come  forth,  beautiful  little  balls  of  buff  and 
brown." 

With  the  more  pugnacious  birds,  such  as  the  Willow-Grouse, 
courtship  and  battle  often  go  together ;  but  many  species  are 
quite  good-natured  and  peaceful  in  their  rivalry — none  more  so, 
perhaps,  than  that  common  and  conspicuous  North  American 
bird,  the  Golden-winged  Woodpecker  or  Flicker  (Colaptes 
auratus).  This  bird  always  seems  to  be  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
its  neighbours,  even  when  courting,  and  the  sight  of  a  couple  of 
males  paying  their  addresses  to  the  same  female  is  one  of  the 
most  amusing  comedies  in  bird-life.  Their  apparent  shyness  as 
they  sidle  up  to  her  and  hurriedly  retire  again,  their  queer  little 
games  of  bo-peep  as  they  slyly  watch  one  another's  advances 
from  the  shelter  of  some  convenient  limb  of  the  tree,  are 
exceedingly  comic,  and  when  at  last  the  choice  is  made,  the 
unsuccessful  suitor  retreats  with  dignity,  taking  his  defeat  quite 
philosophically,  and  no  doubt  enters  into  an  equally  friendly 
contest  elsewhere. 

Here  we  must  make  an  end.  This  book  tells  of  only  a  few 
of  the  wonderful  things  that  we  know  about  the  lives  of  birds. 
In  The  Romance  of  Bird  Life,  from  which  these  chapters  are 
taken,  you  may  read  the  story  of  their  battles  and  piracy,  their 
flight  and  swimming  and  diving;  of  their  toilet,  their  social 
habits  and  strange  friendships,  their  wisdom  and  folly;  and 
you  may  learn  also  something  of  that  sad  tale  of  the  persecution 
which  has  deprived  the  earth  of  some  of  its  most  interesting 
inhabitants. 


END 


PRINTED  BY 

WILLIAM   BRKNDON  AND  SON,    LTD. 
PLYMOUTH 


Rene 


